Season 2 Episodes 1 - 2 from my perspective: short story collection 3
by Sweepeaspatch
Summary: These stories arise on their own as I watch the episodes. They may jump around a bit. They certainly are not a single story-line.
1. Chapter 1

Story Listing

1\. S2 E1 - A Murder on a Plantation - His P.O.V. (2 parts)

2\. S2 E1 - Raking Up Old Memories

3\. S2 E1 - The Night of the Red Dress (6 parts)

4\. S2 E1 - Put THIS in Your Pipe and Smoke it!

5\. S2 E2 - An Unholy Death - Her P.O.V. (2 parts)

6\. S2 E2 - The LOOK

7\. S2 E2 - Some Kind of Code

8\. S2 E2 - He Rules The Roost

9\. S2 E2 - Nuns... and Bikinis... and the Healing Waters of the Holy Spring

10\. S2 E2 - Daughters (6 parts)

 **S2 E1 – A Murder on a Plantation – His P. O. V.**

Part 1 of 2

When he pulls up to La Kaz this morning, he feels pretty optimistic. The day had dawned cool and his morning cup of tea had been perfect. The new pyjamas were much more comfortable and, best of all, he is sure he's turned a corner with Camille.

There, on the beach, watching the sun set with her, he'd dared greatly and after only 10 minutes of dithering he'd brazenly ventured out to her in his shirt sleeves! She hadn't batted an eye. The world did not end. His dignity remained intact. So much for his worry about maintaining decorum. Next on the agenda… jacket off at work! It CAN be done… and shall!

But now, duty calls and his armour is at full strength. Good thing too because his first sight of her shakes him a bit. _Call those shorts? I should say so! But… what lovely legs…_ He could look at them all day!

Then! A blind date? Camille? Tomorrow night? He successfully hides his unease and drives them to the crime scene. Let tomorrows' troubles come tomorrow. Today is already under way.

He is a trifle uncomfortable at the crime scene. He never likes being reminded of colonialism. Fortunately the team is very gung-ho and he can stand back a bit and let them work. He is sure Fidel would have noticed the broken glass but he didn't want to appear completely slack and so he points it out first.

Driving up to the main house (mansion, more like), the cool gives way to humid. He hesitates briefly, shrugs, and unbuttons his jacket. No one can see him in the truck so he may as well try a new survival skill. Camille is smiling but watching the road so no problems there. Surely she will forgive him a simple human frailty? Partners do that, don't they? Good ones do. And she does, so all is well.

Five minutes later he is buttoned back up in more ways than one. He is stoically shocked by this family's behaviour and morals. _A man of 72! With a woman of 33! How had he found the strength? Where had she found the patience?_ Made the 10-year gap in his own troubles pale into insignificance. _Maybe 10 years isn't such a big deal after all?_ He'll have to think about that later… but problematic age differences are promptly forgotten with the news that everyone was right here in full sight of everyone else during the murder. Why is nothing ever easy?

Minutes later, when he automatically hands over his handkerchief, he is kicking himself. _Ridiculous reflexes! Antiquated mannerisms! A dinosaur, that's me. I don't need to see it – I can HEAR Camille's eyes rolling in their sockets!_ But he soldiers on, also by reflex.

Camille's tone of voice did not escape him either. It can't be because Kim is lovely – Camille is too professional for that. Her copper's instincts are seldom wrong and he adds this to the list of facts in his head.

The internecine fighting is ramping up. Time to go. But his last question blows off whatever lid of stilted politeness has been kept on so far. _And… Erzulie again! An excuse to lure Camille away and now perhaps a reason for murder?_

He is most pleased by Fidel's acumen to spot the significance of the bloody finger-tip… and the sheer dumb luck of being in the right place at the right time. _Would I have noticed it? Unknown. On such lucky breaks are cases solved._ And, indeed, a vital clue is found. _Good on you, Fidel._

After talking to the workers, Camille returns looking as cool as the proverbial cucumber. He is sweltering now, wishing he were out of public view so he could at least undo his jacket again. Their brief conversation allows him to try a tiny bit of verbal banter. It goes well and he is pleased at the friendly tone he has achieved… but peeling his trousers off his thighs just so he can step up into the truck is disheartening. It's difficult to be suave while being steamed alive.

At the station, he is out of his jacket as soon as he can manage and no one notices. Thank god. The humidity is unrelenting. Unfortunately, he has to force himself back into it almost immediately and the lining hasn't even dried out yet. Fortunately, Camille is most helpful. Nice to be coddled a bit.

During their walk to the doctor's office he casts about for something to say. Small talk! The bane of his existence! How uneasy it makes him… but Camille is so much easier to talk to than almost anyone else… and so he mentions Erzulie and immediately wishes he hadn't.

 _Biological clocks? Don't get me started! Mothers wanting grandchildren? Please!_ He offers the tiniest bit of his feelings on the subject, knowing exactly how it feels to be the overlooked toy, the 'not quite right' object in question. Then she asks him if he's ever been on a blind date! _As if!_ No way would he subject himself to such potential humiliation.

She gives him a perfect opening for a snappy comeback and gentlemanly compliment about a mature Rioja and is very pleased with himself… for about 3 seconds… then it all goes pear-shaped! He cannot believe it! She is spitting mad and talking nonsense and all he can do is stutter and try to catch up. He gives up trying and is reduced to pulling rank… which… thank god… she responds to. Small mercies!

He also realizes too late that he's revealed a deeply buried secret when he cries out, "Why do women always DO that?" He fully expects her to jump all over THAT… but she doesn't. The way she acts, she must hear it all the time from luckless men. But, good, she didn't catch it. He does NOT wish to be grilled about WHAT women? WHERE? WHEN? His abysmal dating record remains hidden. _Super._

As he marches away, he fervently hopes the two older women working on their float hadn't overheard the 'frank discussion' between him and Camille... they must have sounded like two lunatics. Who could make sense of it? He couldn't so surely two strangers wouldn't. He hears something, looks over his shoulder… the two women are shaking their heads and laughing with delight. What wrong impression has he left there on the street? He shakes his head… _get yourself back on track, Poole! Work the case and forget about the small talk. Good advice!_

Thank goodness for the doctor's surprising input. It gives them both something to concentrate on. Back at the station it's like the fight never happened. What had that fight been about, anyway? She'd been so upset and he suspects he'd only been the closest available target. Whatever it was, she seems much calmer now.

In retrospect, the extendable pointer had been a bad idea. She isn't over her mad after all. He is lucky to get it back in one piece! Has he annoyed people like this all along? Or was he only annoying to her? If so, why? Maybe he is normal and SHE is the problem… but, no… people back home had vented at him all the time. It must be him. Hard to guess what will set people off. Only thing to do is start a mental check list and keep track of things never to do or say again. What a lot of bother! Looking surreptitiously at her, he thinks maybe it is worth the effort.

Later, in the market, she makes another incredible claim about 'obvious love'. Come to think on it, she says this a lot… that she can tell when people are in love just by looks and sounds and actions. He wonders why it seems so important to her. Surely she has all the love she can handle? All those young men… it doesn't bear thinking about… so he shuts down that part of his troubled mind.

Thankfully, he finds a new book pertinent to the case. Modern convention will not uncover past mores and ways of thinking. He must immerse himself in the past. Also, it puts an end to the troubling talk of love festivals. _Stiff upper lip, Richard! It's what's saved me in the past and I'll stick to what works._

Next morning, she catches him off-guard about the book… else he wouldn't have quipped as he did. He covers his consternation with as cheeky a smile as he can manage and it seems to do the trick. During the drive to the mill, he avoids further conversation by looking out his window. Let her think he is inferring and deducing. Better that then his true thoughts… ' _At it all night and again before breakfast!' Whatever possessed me to say such a thing? I mustn't allow myself to imagine what she really thinks of me. God, if I can't manage to speak intelligently of wine or books, what hope is there?_

Then, at the mill, she races off like a mad thing… and he follows as if tied by invisible cords. He doesn't know what she's seen or heard but he simply cannot let her go unprotected. _Oh, Poole, you are in WAY over your head!_ Luckily it isn't danger she's rushed into but another tiny clue… a tiny red clue. Add it to the list!

When he is grilling Miss Kim again, he commits a huge faux pas and he's not even sure what it is! He's just rolled his eyes and snorted at the woman's comment about all the men in the street when, too late, he sees the daggers being shot his way by Camille. One thing about Camille, when she stifles… she STIFLES! His humour dries up like the Kalahari on a particularly bad day and it takes several moments before he can find his voice to continue his line of questioning. Camille steams off almost immediately and he hasn't the courage to remain undefended so he leaves too.

It isn't until they are at the truck that her actions begin to make sense. Her FATHER! Of course! Abandonment issues tied up with hatred of women who steal men from other women… and perhaps hatred of the men who allow it to happen? All he can think to say is a very quiet "Sorry" but that doesn't begin to express what he is feeling. How sad for a child to be deserted.

All the way back to the station he thinks about this unexpected window into Camille's life. It explains so much! Her reckless bravery, is it a cover for fear? Her difficulty with blind dates, does she trust any of the men she's met so far? Does she trust men at all? Does she trust HIM? Does she see him as a man… or just 'the boss'? Oh, this spiral of questions plus the heat is giving him a horrible headache.

END – part 1


	2. Chapter 2

**S2 E1 – A Murder on a Plantation – His POV**

Part 2

He rather wishes he is brave enough to ask her these questions… but he isn't… so he doesn't. What a conversation THAT would be. He wonders where it might have taken them.

Back at the station, he sets his team into motion then retreats beneath a cool damp cloth to calm himself. He hears them working all around him… Fidel finds a possible explanation for the J-O-H in blood, Dwayne is following the money, Camille ties it into Miss Kim's home island… excellent work all! He wishes he could take a nap, he's so hot and tired, but, no… the red ribbon… as soon as he sees it, something clicks into place… he feels the connection inside his head! A clue! Leading to another clue!

He is out the door without thinking, hot (!) on the trail then realizes he is only half-dressed. Rushing back in, he is most gratified to see Camille holding up his missing accoutrement. What a team they make!

Of course, now that he knows what he is looking for, he finds the tunnel right away. Hah! As he prepares to go spelunking, she rightly surmises he doesn't want to enter this nightmare of a place. But who else can go? Fidel is already busy and his findings are vital to the case! Camille… well, how can he order her into this hellish orifice? It has to be him. Fortunately, before he can chicken out, he slips and is plummeted into hell without any warning. Ugh! The dirt! The massive cobwebs. The damp and dark and dankness. Only his drive to find another clue keeps him going. When he finally crawls out into daylight, he is never so glad to be above-ground again!

And the horror is worth it! Another vital clue is revealed. After he calls Camille, he tries to brush himself off. One look at her face tells him that he is in no shape for public consumption and Camille takes him to a lonely stretch of deserted beach where he washes off the worst of it. Lucky she is with him to help otherwise he would have had to partially strip to clean his back. Even so, when they get back to the station she is still wiping dirt off his face. What a partner! He doesn't remember any teams cleaning each other off back at Croydon. He is so lucky to be here and not there.

So lucky.

Back at the station, Dwayne supplies the remaining clue needed to connect all the dots. How fortunate that Dwayne has stepped up to the plate ever since his almost-fall-from-grace over the Nadia Selim case _. He is proving himself to be quite a good copper, a real asset to the team. Good on you, Dwayne._

A quick check on the computer and he has his Motive. _Show time!_ A few last minute instructions and it's off to the crime scene for the Big Reveal!

The denouement is depressing and sad. So much hatred. So much anger. So much clueless surprise. He knows exactly what Camille means by her statement 'most days I like my job…' It is comforting to know that they think and feel the same… like real partners, at last.

He doesn't know why he didn't just get into the sidecar and let her drive him back to the station. It's what happens anyway 30 minutes later when she stops at the tree he is collapsed beneath. Maybe he should just listen to her from now on. Why torture himself unnecessarily? He actually enjoys the ride back, the wind cooling his face and she avoids the worst of the potholes so it is all good.

The case wrap-up is a bit anti-climactic but most of them are. He is puzzled by her reaction when he reluctantly reminds her of her blind date. As the three of them watch her race out the door, they look at each other and shrug… _Women! An alien race if ever there was one!_ It is a foregone conclusion that they will walk down to La Kaz for an after-case wrap. He is happy to go. He likes his team… ALL of his team. Too bad she is otherwise occupied.

At La Kaz, their lovely quiet time is shattered by imperious Catherine. She overhears Fidel lament about lack of a baby-sitter and Richard's goose is cooked. Within moments he is ushered across the street to await Fidel's return. Thank goodness he'd had the foresight to bring his book. The wait is almost bearable despite his dread of still being here when Camille shows up for her date. The very prospect of seeing this merger fills him with foreboding.

His reticence is utterly shattered when he DOES see her. _My god!_ He has to look twice to make sure it is really her! _She is absolutely… Well. Absolutely._

For once, his ingrained manners stand him in great stead. When he shoots to his feet, she actually smiles! She then proceeds to tease him by sitting down and pretending he is her date! The cheeky monkey. If only she knew. He can't play along though, it hurts too much. He lets her know that he is onto her tricks and that she has a real date waiting for her somewhere. Lucky stiff!

Then… an odd thing happens. She looks uncertain... not caught out and guilty of playing a trick… but actually upset and hesitant. Almost like… almost like she really thinks he IS her date. Him. Him and her… Into the crashing silence that falls between them, Fidel ambles up, breaking the hard stare that has almost melded their eyes to each other.

Together, he and Fidel try to explain what is happening but he can tell she is upset. Upset and embarrassed. Could she really have thought he was her date? Could she really be upset that he isn't?! He sees Fidel's speculative look and realizes that their emotions are showing on their faces. Time to take evasive maneuvers! He uses his book as a shield.

Then, to make matters worse, Catherine swans in and hi-jacks Camille. Hi-jacks her and pushes her towards the next table where… of course… a virile young man sits oblivious to the anguished mime taking place behind his back.

Richard can't seem to drop his gaze. Neither can she. There's the loudest silence he's ever heard hovering between them but he can't say what he's thinking! You just don't say, ' _Forget that man. Be with me! You are my heart's desire and…'_ No. Can't be done so instead say something totally inane, deflect Fidel's suspicions, release her to her previously programmed evening, and slink off into the dark.

He can't resist one last look back, though. He wishes he hadn't. The look she shoots him is despairing, almost ' _Come back! Save me!'_ … but, of course, he can't. He dithers there on the edge of the patio and on the horns of a dilemma. The woman he wants is with another man. How do you live with that?

Well, you live with it like you live with everything else. Accept it. Get over it. Move on.

And he does move on… moving on is his only option. Tonight. But not the acceptance and not the getting over it. He can't. It just isn't possible. Tonight has slipped through his fingers… he hadn't been ready… he hadn't realized the moment was upon them… but there will be other moments. Plenty of them. Any one of them could be the moment he is waiting for.

He just has to be ready... watch for his chance and… and…

… take a leap of faith.

END


	3. Chapter 3

** Author's note: but what if they DID have that conversation?**

 **S2 E1 – story #2 - Raking Up Old Memories**

When she woke up this morning, she felt pretty optimistic. The day had dawned cool but promised to heat up in a hurry… and so… after several moments of dithering, she put on the shorts. She's never worn them to work before but today felt right somehow… because she is sure she turned a corner with him there on his beach.

When he'd come out to her in his shirt sleeves she'd almost toppled off her chair! Whatever had prompted him to such a brazen act, she definitely wanted to encourage it so she hadn't batted an eye. She watched him relax and go with it. What did he think would happen? The world would come to an end? She would jump him?

Well… if she HAD jumped him the world MIGHT have come to an end so thank goodness for shock. It was all that saved them both from a potentially explosive moment.

But let's see how he reacts to the shorts…

Nothing! Damn! He's either got the control of a ninja-master or the emotional maturity of a 5-year-old. She wonders which? Well, it feels wonderful to be cool so, Mr. 'Can't See The Forest For The Trees', the shorts stay!

The day went downhill rapidly after that. The plantation. That WOMAN! Her hackles went up right there on the walkway when Dr. Johnston gave them the run-down of players. 'His young lady' indeed! When she saw Miss Kim up close, she just knew. Knew that type. How she HATES that type!

And THEN! Oh, and then, Miss Kim holds out her hand without even looking at him and he hands over his handkerchief without missing a beat! So! He CAN be trained! Oh, please don't let it be Megan Talbot all over again!

But despite his subtle signals to her that she is too aggressive in her questioning, and his lulling the prime suspect with 'it's just routine', she is very relieved to see that he isn't attracted to Miss Kim at all. At least, he doesn't appear to be. With him… who knows? Maybe he's learned his lesson and has gone all covert with women?

It is the second interview with Miss Kim that brings it all to a boil. Miss Kim scoffs at the photos, makes a smug comment about men coming up to her in the street… and HE laughs it off! How DARE he?! The look she shoots him would blister paint off an ordinary man but he just shrugs and carries on. She can't listen to any more of it and storms off, her mind in a whirl of anger and repressed feelings.

When he catches her up at the truck, she realizes he might be questioning her objectivity and so she tells him about her father. Just the barest hint of all the pain and fear and blame she's suffered because of a woman just like THAT. He seems to understand more than she thought he would. His quiet 'Sorry' holds a world of meaning… or so it seems. He's still much of a closed book to her too.

On the drive back to the Station, his silence seems to be asking questions and so she starts talking, "The little girl I keep seeing, the one with the red hair ribbons, she reminds me of myself at that age. I was about the same age when my Dad left. It's the last time I remember being happy as a kid. He was there one day… gone the next. I spent every day watching the lane, waiting for him to come back. I lay in bed every night listening for his door slam. I prayed every Sunday in church, promised to be a good girl forever, if only Papa would come back. But he never did. Not a call, not a single birthday card, nothing. He disappeared as if he'd never existed. It was years before I found out he'd left us for nothing! For NOTHING! Our lives, our home, our happiness and safety… he threw it all away for a woman just like Miss Kim. I still wonder if he felt anything for us at all. Ever."

A beat of silence then a gentle hand on her shoulder as she stares resolutely out the windshield at the road, "Camille, I had no idea. I'm so sorry. I can't imagine you as a scared little girl missing a father."

She almost shouts at him, "Why do men DO that? Why do they make promises that they never mean to keep? Is it too much to ask for someone to keep their word?"

He is very quiet, removes his hand carefully, "Not all men do it. You must know that."

Her anguish gets the better of her, "Would YOU do it? Leave me?" She hears herself a split-second too late and groans. The silence from his side of the truck is deafening. She can't look at him. Nothing to do but leap in with both feet and a quick Hail Mary, "I mean… if we ever… if you…" She winds down. There's just no way to finish that sentence without embarrassing herself more than she already has. She gives a sigh of defeat, "Please forget I said that."

He clears his throat... a tiny sound of resolution, "I always keep my word, Camille. It's why I guard myself so carefully. There's no woman in my life because I've never found one I could trust my life to. Women do it too, you know, make promises they won't… or can't keep."

She takes a deep breath, "I hope you know I'm not like that. I've been through it. I know what it's like, how awful it can be. I vowed as a child to never lie to a loved one and I always keep my word." She braves a quick glance to him. He is watching her very intently and doesn't drop his gaze when their eyes meet. "I guess I've been guarding myself carefully too. How alike we are."

"Yes," he murmurs, "how very alike." They pull up to the station and it is time to be professional again. They meet at the front of the truck and there is a thoughtful moment when they stand side by side looking up at their workplace.

Very quietly, she asks, "You promise to keep your promise? If or when the time comes?"

Just as quietly, he replies, "Yes… WHEN the time comes, absolutely. And you?"

She smiles then, suddenly feeling a future right in front of her, "Oh, yes. Maybe sooner if Erzuli has anything to do with it."

She hears his huff of amusement as they walk to the steps, "Oh, well… Erzuli protect me from Erzuli."

A single frangipani flower drifts down between them but they don't notice. It is gone when they come out hot on the trail of the next clue.

END


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's note: but they didn't have the conversation… and so… what if…?**

**Sorry for absence, Episode 4 was killing me! Will post daily until finished.**

 **S2 E1 - The Night of the Red Dress**

Part 1 of 6

Tired, annoyed, feeling put-upon, Camille looks towards the patio to see 'her date' sitting at a table. The early evening sky backlights a very familiar outline. The golden light glows softly on the clean sweep of his suited back, the shape of him so solid and dear. His face is in shadow but she knows every line of it.

The joy that surges in her heart is matched only by the shock that Maman has FINALLY gotten it right! Next comes the shock that he is actually HERE! Him. Here. For her. How had Maman managed it? How had he allowed it? He wouldn't have… unless… unless he wanted to?

With flutters in her stomach, she shyly approaches… to have the whole thing blow up in her face.

He is only waiting for Fidel.

He is baby-sitting for the evening.

He is leaving.

Sorrow and disappointment wash over her. She tries to cover it up, laugh it off, looks everywhere but at him. Nevertheless, she sees his reaction and knows that he has seen HER reaction and, for once in his life, he has read her correctly. Face burning in embarrassment, she lets her mother direct her to the correct table where a perfectly nice man waits for her.

As she sits, she realizes this is not the RIGHT man. None of them will EVER be the right man. She casts one last despairing look at Richard's retreating back.

But he isn't retreating. He is hesitating, a look of such longing on his face that her heart goes out to him. He is the perfect image of a man caught on the horns of a dilemma. Suddenly, HIS reaction to HER reaction flashes through her mind. He hadn't been shocked or appalled or indignant. His look had been one of surprise, wonder, and hope… then he had tried to cover it up as if it was the secret of his heart. The secret of his heart? Was it possible? Her pulse leaps. _He is going to come back! Yes, Richard! Take a deep breath and gather your courage and come back! Save me!_

He doesn't come back. He sighs, and, diminished somehow, turns and moves away into the dark.

She freezes and suddenly sees her future laid out bleak and sterile before her. It is unbearable. Their moment should have been HERE, tonight, right NOW, and it is slipping away. Sorrow floods in and she sinks into her chair.

A hush falls. Thunder builds up in the air. A small voice speaks right in her ear... **go to him**

She stands. No one is there, just the cooling air wafting past her other ear... **he cannot you must**

Not giving herself time to think, she excuses herself from THIS man and rushes after THAT man. For a moment she thinks he has eluded her but then she sees dim movement. "Richard!" The movement stops and she sees the pale V of his shirt front as he turns at her shout. Fearful yet full of hope, she hurries up to him.

When she reaches him, she finds herself mute. What possible reason can she give to justify her actions? Nothing rational. Nothing sane. Nothing that would make sense in his orderly world.

 _What do I tell him?_ she frantically thinks. A slip of air circles her... **the truth**

"Camille?"

She finds herself gazing into the faintest gleam of green, moonlight washing him silver. She knows then that here is HER heart's secret. Unbidden, her hand reaches out to catch one of his. She feels the tremor run up his arm, "Richard, can you tell me one thing? The truth? Can you?"

She sees him blink, his lips part then close. His fingers jerk in hers but she holds tight tight, brings up her other hand to strengthen her grasp. He finally nods, "I'll try. What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Everything. Us. Please, Richard..." She takes a deep breath. She hears him do the same, bracing himself. "… do you care for me at all? Even a little?"

END-part 1


	5. Chapter 5

Part 2

Her words are quiet yet they ring in the pellucid air like bells.

Time spins out. He is completely still. She holds his gaze, waiting. Everything turns on his next word.

She suddenly realizes that she hadn't told him the one thing that he needs to know. She holds up a finger, "I forgot to give you a vital piece of evidence." He quirks an eyebrow. "I care for you. A lot. More than a lot. Just so you know."

He nods then continues to study her face. He isn't looking away. He hasn't pulled his hand from hers. She holds her breath and waits. Finally she says, "Soon, please?"

He seems to wake, "Right. Right. To answer your question… yes." Now his eyes drop and he runs a hand through his hair, "But, Camille…"

She sighs mightily, letting go of all her tension and fear. He said yes! One baby step. OK, now for the next. She holds up a finger again, "A little? Or a lot?" His face twists in pain. "The truth now. This is important."

"The truth? OK, the truth. A lot." She can tell how much those few words cost him.

"Richard, oh, Richard… thank you. That's all I need to know. Will you wait here? Right here! I'll be right back. Don't you move!" She dares greatly and kisses him lightly, quickly, on the lips. She flees back to the light, wings on her heels, and makes her excuses to the man. Running back, she is suddenly sure he will be gone. But he hasn't moved. He watches her approach with the strangest look on his face.

Slamming to a stop in front of him, she suddenly feels uncertain, "What? Am I a mess?" She pats her hair and her dress, checking.

He shakes his head, "The truth? No, you still look stunning. And something more…"

God help her, she feels shy! Like a teenage girl, heart in her throat, stomach flip-flopping, heat rising up in her face, "More?"

He takes a deep breath and her hand, "I have to believe your astonishing statement. You would never lie to me, would you?" She shakes her head. He slowly says, "So, to recap… you care for me… a lot. I… I care for you… a lot. And now we're standing here in the moonlight… holding hands."

She smiles in relief and takes his other hand. They face each other. "Are you OK?" she asks.

"In shock, more like."

"I wish I'd told you sooner."

"SOONER? Good god, how long has this been going ON?!"

She looks up into those delightful eyes, "A long time. Can I have another kiss?"

He is so still! She can only imagine what thoughts and feelings are whirling around inside his head. _Please, let him free up, just a little! If he kisses me, it will be the next baby step._

END – part 2


	6. Chapter 6

Part 3

Finally he speaks, "Camille, I can't. We can't. It's not allowed. Please, don't ask me."

She squeezes his hand and draws him a fraction of an inch closer, "Richard, we're professionals. We will work it out. Rules and regulations aren't as strict here. It's already on the Commissioner's radar."

He pulls back, sounds very worried, "The Commissioner? What do you mean?" He is trying to disengage their hands, starting to panic. She has to get control.

She takes one step closer, pulls his hands up to kiss the backs. He stiffens and stills, "I mean… the Commissioner has said that he devoutly hopes you will meet someone from Saint-Marie, settle down, and stay." She keeps her head down, brushing her lips back and forth across his fingers. Waits.

He clears his throat, "The Commissioner said that? Did he really?" She nods. She can feel the tension leaving his hands. He is quiet again, thinking, "WHEN did he say this?"

"Do you remember when you had only two hours to make that important phone call?"

"Yesss...?" He doesn't sound aggrieved. He sounds unsure, hesitant.

"He told Maman then." A long pause. She still doesn't look up. His hands have opened under her gentle caresses. He is slowly stroking her cheek, probably without knowing it. His thoughts are elsewhere.

"Did he? DID he?!" More silence. She feels that he has reached the crossroads. She holds her breath.

She hears a small snort, just a chuff, but it is amused not angry. The tension she'd felt across her shoulders falls away.

"That sly old devil. That interfering, domineering, cunning old fox. How dare he? I'm not some young pup that needs handling!" He is working himself up. She reaches up, gently takes his chin. He stops mid-rant, eyes coming to rest on hers again.

"He dares because you are NOT a young pup. You are a fierce dog with a steel trap mind and cunning skills. He's loosed you on the island to defend the people. And you do that. You do that every day. He wants you. He wants you to stay. And he knows something else…" She drops her eyes.

He is almost smiling now, still not quite believing this conversation is happening. He lifts her chin gently, watches her very carefully now, "What does he know?"

She turns her head so that her cheek rests in his palm. His fingers close ever so slightly, brushing her skin. "He knows how I feel about you. Somehow, he knows. I tried so hard to hide it. From him. From you. From everyone."

She feels him take a step towards her. Both his hands cup her face. She is forced to look up into green fire. "And how DO you feel about me? The truth now. Hiding-time is over. Tell me."

END part 3 


	7. Chapter 7

Part 4

Seeing those eyes, she knows it is time to tell all. No quips. No jibes. No jokes. He is deadly serious. Maybe that has been her mistake all along… trying to jolly him. This man didn't 'jolly'. He didn't have the inner confidence to understand that sometimes teasing isn't bullying. Not for the last time, she wishes she could fire-storm the people from his past… blast them to hell for what they'd put him through. They're damned lucky she can't time travel, step through a gate of some kind and appear in their midst! She'd have a huge gun in her hands and she would…

She is brought back to the present with a gentle shake, "Earth to Camille. Where were you just now? You led me to a frightful precipice then left me there all by myself."

"I was in the past, murdering everyone at Croydon."

He looks a bit lost, "Oh? Why?"

She strikes his chest with a sudden fist that makes them both jump, "Because they were MEAN to you!"

He takes the last step and folds her into his arms, "Oh."

She rests her cheek over his heart, finally hears his heartbeat, slow and steady. His chin comes down to rest atop her head. He sighs. She hardly dares believe it.

She snuggles into him. He takes her. Her hands are slipping up the back of his jacket. She has to take it slow. She feels like she has a half-wild animal here. He wants to trust but it is hard, so hard. She stops her hands, puts them behind her back.

He steps back, holding her shoulders, "What's wrong? Why did you pull away?"

"I haven't told you that I love you. You asked but I got side-tracked. You can side-track me like nobody else I know. How do you always do that?" She is rattling on, nervous, hopes he's heard her confession and that he won't refuse it.

His whole face lights up with a huge grin. He actually laughs, "You do? You really do?" Then his brows came down and he gives her another small shake, "The truth? Really, the truth?" She nods. He folds her back into his embrace, "Well, that's fine then. I love you too." He says it so nonchalantly… as if it doesn't change the world forever. "Please put your arms around me again. It was heavenly."

She does. They hold each other in the moonlight, happy together… at the same time… at last.

"Richard. Dearest. Are you there?"

"Mmmmmmm, yes, I'm here. I'm over the moon but here. What is it?"

"You never gave me that second kiss."

"Oh, right. Coming right up." He leans in then pauses, "And you're absolutely, completely, 100%, cross-your-heart-and-hope-to-die SURE? I don't think my heart can survive a reversal of fortune here."

Breathing in his scent, feeling him SO CLOSE, the image of the half-wild creature flashes across her mind again, "Richard, your heart will be my dearest possession if only you will give it to me at LONG last."

Just before their lips meet, he whispers, "Technically, I did not give you a first kiss. You stole that one."

END part 4


	8. Chapter 8

Part 5

The first kiss he freely gives is slow to start, unsure but eager. Then it builds up and up as their minds finally accept what their bodies have been telling them for some time now. She forgets her firm restrictions to 'take it slow' and her tongue sweeps inside his mouth, seeking him. He flinches a bit. "Sorry," she mumbles, "I didn't mean to…"

He tightens his grip on her, "Do it again."

She does. She feels his breath speed up as their tongues touch, slide over each other, caress and dart. It is the best kiss she's ever experienced. She is shocked. She is delighted. She can't breathe!

She breaks contact, pants in cool draughts of night air, "Richard POOLE! WHO taught you to kiss like that?! I'm going back in time to shake that girl's hand and then I'm going to SHOOT her!"

He is trying to recapture her mouth, "You did. Just now. Stop talking." He kisses her again. This one

is just as intense but different. He is exploring her mouth, questing, searching. Wonderful sensations stream down her body. He is making love to her! She submits totally, slips her arms around his neck, and caresses his nape. She can feel her arousal matching his.

This time he breaks the kiss. Panting, he puts his forehead against hers, "Um, Camille. This is getting a bit out of hand. A romantic kiss in the moonlight is one thing. This is something else altogether. As much as I hate to say it, this is the time but NOT the place."

She groans. Stepping away is the hardest thing she's ever had to do. It takes her two tries before she can speak. He smiles to see it. "You're right" she says, "…besides, you have ANOTHER duty tonight."

"I do?"

"Yes. You're supposed to be baby-sitting Rosie."

He gasps, "That's RIGHT! I'm late! I have to go. But I don't want to leave you. What…?"

She takes his hand, "I'm going with you, of course. Two can baby-sit as well as one."

"How will I explain my tardiness? Your presence?"

As they walk, hand in hand, she smiles, "You won't have to explain anything. It's Erzuli's Festival."

He smiles back, "Oh, well, mustn't disappoint, must we?" A pause, "Other duty?"

She gives him a cheeky sideways look, "Other than starting to plan our future together, I think you know VERY WELL what your other duty will be."

Sighing happily, he puts his arm around her shoulder, hugs her to his side, "Jolly good. Just checking."

Within moments they are just a couple walking on the beach in the dark, a not-very-big-man with a slim and lithe woman tucked into his side, exactly the right height and fit for each other.

Made to order.

END part 5


	9. Chapter 9

Part 6

And so they arrive at the Best home, surprising Fidel mightily and Juliet not at all. As Fidel shows Richard all the paraphernalia necessary to watch a baby sleep for 3 hours, Juliet pulls Camille into the kitchen where a hushed rapid-fire conversation punctuated with suppressed squeals takes place.

As they wave goodbye to the couple, Richard whispers, "And what was all that about?

Waving and nodding, Camille whispers back, "All what?"

Turning to look at her, he smiles, "All THAT back there in the kitchen."

"Oh. Juliet is most pleased. She gave me a bottle of wine to celebrate."

"You TOLD her? Camille, how could you betray my trust in such an egregious manner? Tsk."

As they watch the car diminish in the distance, Camille says, "I imagine she's telling him right about… now." The car swerves slightly then disappears around the corner.

Heaving a huge sigh, he takes her hand and leads her back into the house, "Oh, good. That's all settled then. Our rapprochement will be all over the island by morning. So happy to oblige everyone's salacious imaginations. My reputation is tarnished forever. Super."

Rounding on him in the living room, she puts her arms around his waist, smiles up into his laughing eyes, "I didn't tell her. She saw it soon as I walked in. Sorry. She said I was glowing."

He looks her over, making her blush, and nods, "Mmmm, suits you."

"Oh, you!" She swats him.

Together they check on the sleeping Rosie. He stammers, "Er…"

She smiles up at him, "At least four."

He blushes but nods after a moment. Another baby step.

They sit on the sofa, the baby monitor hums quietly. "How about that wine?" she asks him.

"All right… but one glass only. We DO have the welfare of an innocent child on our shoulders." She smiles, pours the wine, and they toast each other.

"Here's to rapprochement," she says.

He lowers his glass, "Um, about that. I know you expect me to 'do my duty' but…"

She puts her glass down and faces him, "I do NOT want to rush things. We went through a lot tonight. Hell, we've been through a lot for over a year now. We need to be sure we can work this out, not on a personal level because I have no doubts on that front, but professionally."

He nods, "And to think I ever doubted you..."

She leans over and murmurs into his temple, "And as for your tarnished reputation…"

He leans into her touch, nuzzling back, "Yes?"

"Don't you worry about THAT! I will take it out every day and polish it until it gleams."

"Oh, good. We must keep up our standards, don't you know?"

And as the night fell, they DID make plans.

When Fidel and Juliet return, they find a couple comfortable and at ease with each other. It is subtle but very evident.

Juliet hugs Richard for the first time and winks at Camille.

Fidel shakes Richard's hand and winks at Camille.

As they leave, Camille muses, "Why are you getting all the pats and congratulations and all I get are winks?"

"Because, my dear, everyone is relieved that I survived the encounter intact."

END 


	10. Chapter 10

S2 E1 – Put THIS In Your Pipe And Smoke It!

The tension in the station is palpable. Any day now! Any day now it will arrive!

How to give it to him?

Dwayne wants to wrap it up in a big red ribbon and give it to him in front of a huge crowd of people down at La Kaz. Camille wants to take out a full page in the newspaper and trumpet it to the whole island. Fidel convinces them to simply frame it and hang it above his desk so he can find it in his own good time… which should be about 5 seconds.

Fidel wins. Time enough for parties and announcements later… once the Chief calms down and/or doesn't fire them all. He is wrong about the timing, though.

It takes 7 seconds.

Everyone is sitting at their desks when the Chief walks in. They all return his greeting but something in their voices tips him off and that's why he is looking back over his shoulder as he approaches his desk. It isn't until he turns around that he sees the large framed document hanging prominently over his little corner of the station, his domain, his turf.

Utter silence reigns as he steps up to the surest sign of their pride in him. He stills. It is many moments before he turns back to face them. They immediately realize that he is overcome with emotion and doesn't know what to say.

Camille jumps to her feet and reaches him first but only because Dwayne and Fidel have farther to race. She urges him to sit, which he does without the slightest trace of resistance. The men shake his hand and pat his shoulder, grinning ear to ear. She is the only one who sees how moved he is and that he doesn't trust his voice just yet.

To give him time to recover and to distract the other officers, she turns and looks at the document hanging so innocently there on the wall and begins to read…

"Guinness World Records Certificate. Detective Inspector Richard Poole of the Honoré Police Force on the Caribbean island of Saint-Marie holds the world's record for solving the oldest cold case being 193 years for the mass disappearance of 50 people in 1820."

She says it with a pleased satisfied tone which Dwayne and Fidel echo with their own comments of "Oh, you bet!" and "Well done, Chief."

When they turn back to him, he is himself again. He stands back up and joins them in front of the ornately scrolled and designed bit of parchment, giving it a critical once over, "That's not quite right, you know. Your names should be up there too. It was a team effort."

"No way, Chief! It's all you. It will always be all you. We're just the tools you need to do your job."

He shakes his head, "No, Dwayne, it's all of us. Together. Our next citation will have ALL our names on it."

Fidel laughs, "OK! Juliet will like that! She's so proud now! Imagine if my name is on the next one!"

Richard reaches up and makes as if to take it down off the wall, "In fact, I'm going to add all your names to it right now!" There is a mad scramble and he is wrestled away and back into his chair. Everyone is laughing.

The precious bit of bragging rights is left safely on the wall.

"Ah, Chief! Don't go desecratin' it! People will want to see it as it is."

"People? What people?"

Dwayne laughs, "Why, everyone! Soon as word gets out it's here, you're gonna have all kinda visitors. Be prepared to have lots of selfies taken!"

"Oh, surely not! It's just…"

She lays a hand on his shoulder and murmurs, "It's just marvellous, that's what it is. You finally have something to prove to others what we already know."

He has the grace to blush a bit and fidget with a pen, "Oh. Well."

Camille goes to her desk and takes out a smaller frame, gives it to him, "Here, I had a smaller copy made so you can take it home… for all those long dark nights when you wonder why you were sent here. To remind you… that you are needed."

She doesn't tell him of the gentle kiss she has placed on the paper right over his name.

She also doesn't tell him of the copy she's mailed to Croydon with a tiny glassine bag of pure white sand, a pressed frangipani flower, a paper drinks umbrella from La Kaz...

… and the note…

… 'Put THIS in your pipe and smoke it!'

… signed 'His Team'.

END


	11. Chapter 11

**author's note: part 2 tomorrow**

 **S2 E2 – An Unholy Death - Her P.O.V.**

Part 1 of 2

It is very early when she quietly parks the Defender by his little house and eases up onto the veranda. As she passes the open French doors she catches a glimpse of blue stripes atop a snowy mantle of bedding. She does not turn her head despite wanting to. She shouldn't really be here without his knowledge let alone ogling him in his sleep.

What a week it has been!

The Seymour murder case had been very hard on her. It had brought back long-buried memories that she thought were laid to rest ages ago. Apparently not. She's had nightmares several nights in a row about her father leaving again. The last one had been the worst. For a moment, her father's hazy face had been replaced by a very sharp image of someone else… someone who hasn't yet managed to leave her but is trying very hard to do just that. Why, only last month he'd been pining for old Blighty with that D.I. Ricketts. How can he be so homesick for a place where he has no place anymore?

 _He is needed here... every day. If only he would come to terms with it. Come to think of it… he'd said it last month, hadn't he? He has accepted his lot, according to him. Did that mean he wants to stay? Should I maybe push him a bit? Get him to say it? Say he will stay… for me? With me?_

And up swarm all the OTHER dreams that have also plagued her nights. She groans, pushes them back down. She can't allow herself to think of them while on duty… MUSTN'T think of them!

And the debacle over the blind date! The less said, the better! Things had been very stiff between them for several days but it seems to be easing now. Given enough time even the most embarrassing faux pas can be glossed over, it seems. Her heart still hurts a little but she's a big girl… she'll live. She is mostly angry at herself for not seizing the moment. Everything could be so different now if ONLY… but she had been caught off guard and the moment had passed… but there will be other moments... yes?

As she watches the ocean roll endlessly, there is a sudden tumult within and he comes charging out… chasing a chicken, of all things! He barely flinches when he sees her. Catching him in his pyjamas is almost a weekly thing between them now. She thinks it's cute. God knows what he thinks.

She cannot help herself and ribs him about 'appearances being deceiving' as she gives him the cheeky once-over from head to foot, doing her best to convey by eyebrow that _'you dress like a little boy but I know better!_ ' He doesn't get it. Figures.

She decides to push the envelope by making him breakfast… a tidy domestic chore that will catch him by surprise and maybe start him thinking along the right lines. When she hears him come out of the bathroom, she very firmly keeps her back to the bedroom and continues with meal prep. A little fortitude now may earn great dividends later. The sounds of his dressing make her curious. _How much clothing does he actually put on_ , she wonders? By the time he is almost finished, she slips out the back door and takes breakfast to the little table she's set up on the beach.

She can tell he is pleased by her efforts. They enjoy a quiet few minutes and he eats every bite. She doesn't remember seeing him eat much. How can a whole year go by and she's seldom seen him eat? His kitchen is bachelor sparse… and the chronological expiry date listing of all the tinned and bottled foods had been a revelation... a tiny peek into his mind. Does he eat out? Another mystery to add to the rest. If she has HER way, he will eat in very happily forever after. Time to look into those night classes on English cooking!

He surprises her too by refilling her empty teacup and drinking from it himself. An odd move for someone who is so concerned about hygiene. Did he even realize he did it? She doesn't think so. Is that a sign of trust… or just more obliviousness? Why can't she figure anything out? No time to stress, the case is afoot and they must follow the scent.

At the convent, he is more uptight than usual. It takes her some time to realize that he is afraid of the nuns. Nuns? These quiet circumspect women? Is it the uniform? Their cloistered life? Their avoidance of all things male? How strange for a man who hardly ever acts like a man to be the only man on the property… apart from Father John, of course.

The only thing to snap him out of his odd state is the mention of the phantom nun. That catches both their attention but then the Mother Superior enters and he is spinning off into an outer orbit once more. This woman really worries him! She almost didn't want to leave him alone with her… but he's a big boy and she knows he'll manage.

She interviews all the nuns who have reported seeing the 'phantom'. Nothing special, nothing spectral, just an odd thing to occur in a convent. When she hears more about the holy spring, she sends Dwayne to fetch Richard.

She watches his face carefully as they follow the path along the river bank. It is very pretty. Almost romantic. Not that he would notice! He is expecting some new info about the phantom and he is suitably miffed when he realizes she's brought him to the holy spring instead. She makes him wait while she bathes in the waters. He makes a big show of dipping his ill hand into the tub of water… but she is sure that running water is best… cool and fresh… full of magic. It must have been because he actually drops a coin into the collection tin and lights a candle for her. She is touched. He smirks it off but she thinks he might have said a little prayer? Maybe? Like she did down at the stream?

Back at the station, Dwayne's surprise reveal about Sister Marguerite… Elodie… shocks everyone! Was it this early tragedy in his life that shaped Dwayne into who he is now? The happy-go-lucky playboy party animal? When he talks about Elodie he doesn't even look like himself. He looks years younger, serious, grounded. It is unsettling to see the results of a path not taken. Dwayne… and Elodie!

 _Paths not taken! Her and Richard! Oh, she just HAS to make it happen somehow!_ She doesn't want to meet Dwayne's fate… loved and lost or no love at all… which is more torture? Which causes more pain?

Then, out on the veranda, Richard finally opens up, desperate to explain a trauma from his childhood. She is taken by surprise… it all spills out of him in a torrent. He's never opened up like this to her before. Something has changed between them… but what? She is pleased in his trust but uneasy about his vehemence. The story about childhood beatings upsets her a LOT but she can't deal with it right now as Sister Marguerite is hovering over them. Later, when they are alone and all is quiet, she will deal with it then… like so much else that needs to be dealt with!

She can't help wondering, though. What other horror stories are bottled up inside him? A seven-year-old boy alone in the world is an easy target. How did he cope? DID he cope? How damaged is he, really? Is he irreparable? If she gets him to open up to her, can she handle it? Is she strong enough to shoulder his burden and help him heal? Tearing off old scabs can be very painful. Is he strong enough to do it? Will he trust her enough to attempt it? These thoughts scare her afresh.

Most disturbingly, she wonders if he is capable of love at all. _Oh, don't think about that now. Surely there is always hope?_ If not hope then prayer… prayer and many tears.

Now they are on their way to visit Maman. Against all the odds, her dear sweet mother holds a clue to the case. Go figure.

The visit to La Kaz leads to the villa up in the hills… a villa absolutely awash in bikinis and estrogen. Within moments of walking through the front door, she knows exactly how this will play out. She has to hand it to him, though, he does his best. Actually, now that she thinks about it, he didn't seem attracted to any of the nubile young bodies… more shocked and embarrassed… on THEIR behalf... more of the outraged father than the randy boyfriend. She has to smile… Richard in a room of almost naked women… _I'll bet that suit heated up super-fast like never before!_

However, once away from all the exposed flesh, he is his usual self… brusque and to the point. There is a moment when he sees the girlfriend kissing their suspect that makes her pause _. Richard knows her? Like THAT?_ Another question to keep her awake in the night. _He must have known women back in England. How many? How well? How OFTEN? Ohhhh, it hurts! "_ Drive" he says. Yep, she can do that.

Dwayne finds another clue. _Now, who would have thought to check all the on-line photos like that? Hmm. Dwayne has changed recently. He's upped his game… and it suits him_! The laid back cop has become a sharp knife.

Next morning, she is surprised and pleased to see Richard is reading 'The Count of Monte Cristo'… especially after insulting the book and her entire culture yesterday! How can he be so hide-bound yet able to change his opinion so quickly? The old dog CAN learn new tricks, it seems. As long as it involves a crime! How can she make her affection for him resemble a crime that he will attempt to solve? Her unrequited feelings for him are a sin and a shame but not a crime... at least not YET! Much more of this and she will explode, taking out innocent by-standers, and then it WOULD be a crime. _Yeah, they can put that on her headstone… "Callously ignored and left to blow up for want of love"…_

Super.

The forced compliment he gives her for noticing the switched packets of cigarettes feels so wonderful! For once, she beat him at his own game! He really hadn't noticed! Oh, it is delicious! Now, surely, he must realize how valuable she is… to the team… to the solving of crime… to him.

Then the attack on Sister Anne! Odd thing, though… she refuses Father John's cuppa… a total reversal of her earlier behavior towards him. Richard, of course, misses this completely. He only has eyes for the tea! _Men and their stomachs… the old saying must be true._ She doesn't HAVE to learn to cook British tucker… just learn to brew the perfect cup of tea. _Could it really be that simple?_ The speculative look she throws him shakes him up a bit but he gets the tea all the same.

Back at the station, she has to concentrate VERY hard on the whiteboard to keep her thoughts under control. He is standing right beside her and she can't help notice that he has a most pleasing personal aroma. Considering how he suffers in the heat, you'd think he wouldn't smell nice at all… but he does. Some strange sort of Richard chemistry? Could it be all the tea? Not quite spicy, not quite musk, not quite fresh bread. It would be a nice smell to wake up to… or fall asleep with…

END – Part 1


	12. Chapter 12

Part 2

Fortunately, Dwayne rushes up with yet another meticulously teased-out clue and snaps her out of her daydream! The man is either VERY lucky or incredibly adept on-line!

Later, listening to their two suspects fight in the cells, she wonders at the caprice of Life. These two had been so in love… and NOW… at total loggerheads. Such reversal of fortune. How do couples manage to stay together through thick and thin? Her father hadn't even tried.

Now, Richard… would Richard be a serious partner? He once said he upheld the institution of marriage… had felt awful to expose a husband and ruin a marriage… but he'd done it all the same. He did his duty no matter what. She is sure he would do his duty by his woman too… if the woman could ever get him to NOTICE her!

Oh, now he has another clue to add to the pile and he rushes out to see Sister Anne about her chemo-therapy treatments. _The nun has been lying to us all along! I'm beginning to come around to his way of thinking… they are just human and capable of anything!_ When he comes back, he is dispirited and frustrated. It isn't Sister Anne after all. What a neat closure that would have been! He is so dejected that the team practically hi-jacks him down to La Kaz and he is so distracted that he actually goes!

He is a powder keg tonight! The lock to Therese's room bothers him. There is a vital clue missing… and they all know what that means! He will bang away at this immoveable object until it begins to crumble… but in the meantime, when he slams the lock down onto the table in fury and leaps to his feet, he makes them all jump! They haven't seen his temper in a while. It's a bit scary. THIS time, though, he quietly apologizes and sits back down. He's never done that before… taken their feelings into consideration so quickly. Usually it takes her hitting him over the head to make him see it. Progress!

This time it is HER that provides the angle he needs to make the next deductive leap… that and Fidel's comment. Funny how merely supporting him emotionally seems to kick-start his brain into action. She doesn't think he ever got any support back home… in England, she means. The team gives him everything they've got… here… where he belongs.

The look on that tourist's face when he borrows then returns her paper drinks umbrella… priceless! If he hadn't scarpered back to the station the woman might have called the cops on him. Ha! Imagine arresting the Chief of Police for assault on one of Maman's cocktails. Try to explain THAT to the Commissioner!

But he is right. He always is. Soot inside the lock but NOT on the key that was IN the lock. And Dwayne, always direct and to the point… smash... and the penultimate clue is revealed.

She has the great good fortune to provide him with the final clue. The look of delight on his face when her bit of the puzzle falls into place is almost more than she can bear. They all hurry back inside to get their canards in a row. He works furiously at the whiteboard while they organize the evidence. He is something to watch when he's on fire like this… almost like a different person and not Richard at all.

She wonders if he's a Gemini? Two different people in the same body. The Chief and not-the-Chief. What wouldn't she give to have not-the-Chief all alone to herself for a few hours!

The Big Reveal is strange. Even when he presents the facts and their findings, Sister Anne and Father John are totally still and quiet. That must come from living a life of total submission. Anyone else would have cracked two minutes into his spiel but they calmly listen and do not react at all. Camille is almost ready to confess just to cut the tension until Sister Anne finally stands up and does it for her.

And it is so sad… so petty… so squalid. A young woman murdered, two lives ruined, and all because two people didn't talk, didn't tell each other what they needed to hear. _Umm… that hits kinda close to home, actually. I MUST find a way to talk to him… to try to get through to him... to tell him…_

Outside, she watches Daryl and Sheila make up and is amazed how fast they are back in love. Just goes to show that people are either incredibly shallow… or incredibly deep. _Which am I? Which is he? I like to think we are both deep. Him. Deep. A deep Poole. Oh, I like that._

 _You have to be careful of deep water, though. You can drown._

His little joke about the miraculous cure of his hand takes her totally by surprise! It jolts her out of the doldrums and gives her hope! He's never pulled a gag before. She doesn't think he's ever felt confident enough to try it. But now he does. _That's hopeful, right? Shows a bit of trust on his part? Now I need to keep that little bit of trust and ADD to it… show him I'm the person he needs in his life…_

 _OH MY GOD! I almost blew it!_

Sitting outside La Kaz, enjoying what little tiny bit of his time that he deigns to spare her, Sister Marguerite swans up and makes a quip about checking underpants!

 _Merde!_

The look of absolute shock and betrayal on his face! The low disbelieving tone of his voice! It shoots an arrow right through Camille's heart! How COULD she have revealed something so private that he'd trusted to her? At the time, it had seemed funny and trivial… but now she sees it was NOT. The bit of his heart and his past that he'd given to her… and she'd SQUANDERED it like trash!

She tries to look as trust-worthy as she can despite the bolts of panic racing through her. Her mind is a complete BLANK! _What do I SAY? How do I ask forgiveness?_ Sister Marguerite saves her by distracting him with the tube of medicine... her quirked eyebrow indicates she knows more than she's letting on. Dwayne's quiet smirk indicates where she's getting her information. Camille is SO glad when they leave and take their knowing eyes with them!

Mercifully, he IS distracted. She hopes he lets it slide… her betrayal. Never again! Whatever he allows her to learn in the future will be furiously guarded to the DEATH! She is now a locked diary! Without a key. Pages glued together. Written in invisible ink.

His secrets are now HER secrets.

Her mental ramblings are interrupted by his abrupt announcement that he is going home. So soon? Why can't he stay? Her best intentions are immediately dashed by her temper. She all but calls him a monk… walling himself up… away from people. Which he does. She wishes he wouldn't.

And this time… THIS time he allows a tiny chink in his armor to show and she leaps for it! It is disguised as banter but he pauses for a long moment, looking at her. Does he see something? Hear something? She thinks he does because he relents and calls for more drinks, going to join Fidel inside to pick up their order.

He is going to stay with them… her.

For how long?

Oh, she hopes he heard her tell him for how long.

Forty years.

That's just about right.

Yep.

A life-time.

END 


	13. Chapter 13

**S2 E2 - The LOOK**

He smugly states, "Dwayne, she married Christ. You could never compete. Not with the miracles and the father-in-law."

"Ah… but does he have my killer smile?"

Richard is already turning away to the whiteboard but the shocking sight of Dwayne's megawatt smile and knowing look yanks him back with alarm… _That look! I've SEEN that look! But where? Good god, it's overpowering! And… oh, dear god, should it make me FEEL like this?_

He is caught off guard and momentarily exposed. He sees the flick of awareness in Dwayne's eyes, sees the man's total sureness of manner, sees the world of difference between them. Fortunately, it is a world involving women and there is absolutely no problem with conceding THAT particular battleground to Dwayne. He does so gladly… but the nagging thought remains as he finally turns away.

HAS he seen that look before? Has anyone ever looked at HIM like that? And… if so… had he liked it? Well, obviously not when Dwayne did it… that was just a testosterone jousting contest so it didn't count.

But who else? It was recently. Not Lily. Never her. Not Megan. She wouldn't have known how. Crazy murder fan? She never stops talking long enough to give anyone a long hard stare. Someone… someone… it was someone…

No, whoever it was, it hadn't been obvious. It had been covert. A challenge. A threat. A promise. A sneak attack. A shot fired below his radar and across his bow. Who could get close enough to wound yet escape detection?

 _Oh, this is going to bother me all day!_ And it DOES bother him all that day and the next but it doesn't prevent him from solving the case.

As he lay in bed on that third night, watching Harry hunt in the rafters above his head, he idly rubs at his hand which is responding nicely to the ointment that Sister Marguerite had given him for his psoriasis. He smirks, remembering how he'd gotten Camille's goat over the holy water. Oh, it had been priceless! He'd paddled his hand in the basin of water there by the shrine while she'd gone down to kneel at the riverbank to bathe in the clear running waters… and… and…

… and she'd thrown him a look over her shoulder…

… just the briefest of glances…

… her eyes sliding up and down his body…

His eyes ease shut. He remembers now. He remembers where he's seen that look.

And, yes, someone HAS looked at him like that.

And he HAD liked it... a LOT!

His body begins to hum. It is with supreme effort that he calms the waters and regains his composure. _That was close… all I did was recall how she'd looked at me…_ and the hum returns. It takes a lot longer to call himself to heel a second time.

He sits up, frustrated and worried… _maybe another shower? But… naked… and under the gentle spray? Not such a good idea. Perhaps a walk on the beach?_ _Fighting my way against the sand should tire me out sufficiently and no more thinking about Camille… oh, lord, there it goes again!_

Third times the charm! He is up and out the door with alacrity. No moon. Good. No one can see him striding up and down his stretch of beach. The waves are soothing. The gentle night zephyr is soothing. His thoughts… are NOT soothing.

 _Camille! That look! How had I missed it?_ _Am I really that clueless? Yes, I think I am because… come to think on it… I'm pretty sure I've seen variations of that look for quite a while now. In the truck. At the station. Right here at home. Not often. Never blatantly._

His pacing slows. He stands quietly looking up at the sky recalling the many MANY times that he's ignored or shrugged off or found a flimsy excuse… for her looks… for her lovely lingering tender looks.

His body is rising with his memories as he conjures up her face, her voice, her willowy form. He comes to suddenly and turns back to his home. _No! No more wasting a moment. He has to… what? Call her? And tell her… what? Get over here? Right now? There's something I need to… I need… Oh, bollocks! No way!_ _No WAY is he calling her!_

He scoffs as he climbs the steps onto his veranda... _yep, that's the way to tell her I've finally come to my senses! It's SURE to woo her to my side. No, I'll have to distract myself until I fall asleep but… tomorrow! I'll start tomorrow!_

Yes, tomorrow! Tomorrow is the start of the wooing of Camille. Shouldn't be too scary, judging by his evening so far. Perhaps he will ask her to join him for drinks here after work? No, too bold. Things might get out of hand, judging by his evening so far. But… perhaps that's JUST what he needs to do! Be bold… bold and daring and not-Richard.

Yes. Tomorrow. _Do you hear that, body? Tomorrow! Now settle down and let me sleep!_ He gingerly lies down. Closes his eyes. Waits. All is quiet on the southern front. OK. Truce accepted.

Just before he slips away, he feels a quiet stab below the waist. _Right,_ he thinks muzzily, g _otcha... tomorrow… or else!_ The stab lets up... right... tomorrow... or else.

He drifts off with a smile on his face for the first time in ages.

END


	14. Chapter 14

**S2 E2 - Some Kind of Code**

"Not all women are nuns and/or bikini-babes, you know. About 90% of us are perfectly ordinary average people. There's no reason to fear us all."

"I don't fear women… if they keep their distance. I just don't know what they want."

"We want what you want… love, happiness, safety, friends…"

"Well then why don't you just say so?"

"What do you mean?"

"It's like you all talk in some kind of code."

"We do not!"

"Yes, you do! Might I remind you of the big fight we had just last week? Over wine?"

"Wine?! We never talked about… oh. Do you mean your cruel comparison of me to the 'house red'?"

"There! You see?! I did NOT say you were the house red! You asked me about going on a blind date and I said…"

"I NEVER asked you out on a blind date!"

"I didn't say you did! You wanted to know…"

"Besides, you were clearly NOT interested later that night when…"

"Oh! Oh! Look! You're doing it AGAIN!" Pause. "Um, when what?"

"Doing WHAT again?" Pause. "When what… what?"

"You're twisting everything I say into an insult… almost like you WANT to fight… like you enjoy fighting in general and with ME in particular." Pause. "Um, about me not being interested that night…"

"WHAT night?"

"The night of the red dress… I mean the blind date!" Averted gaze.

"My blind date? THAT night? It was a disaster, same as…" Keen glance, lidded look. "The red dress? THAT'S what you remember?" Little smile.

He leaps to his own defense, "Women always do it… always. Say one thing and mean another. How are men supposed to cope?"

"Obviously, you can't… which is why you need an interpreter… and… Wait a minute! WHAT women? When! Where?"

Eyes closed. A groan. The very questions he had avoided last week with such thankful relief… and here they were… thrown right back into his face! _Serves me right for pushing my luck!_ _LUCK?! Hah! If it weren't for bad luck I'd have no luck at all!_ The best defense is a good offense, right? Right! He takes a deep breath and gives it his best effort, "An interpreter? Who? You? Who will translate what YOU say so I can understand it?"

"I make perfect sense! All the time. You just don't listen."

"Oh, is that right? And do YOU listen? What did you think I meant by a 'mature Rioja'?"

Sudden lull. "This is about the wine again, isn't it?"

"It is and it isn't. I was trying to compliment you but instead you tried to set fire to me. Some interpreter! That's the thanks I get… Er, what are you doing?"

"I'm looking up 'mature Rioja'…"

"Um, no need for that. What's passed is passed. We should move on…" Shuffling of expensive leather.

Smug look, pleased smile, "Well, well, well…"

"Now look, I can't be held accountable for every poser's wine review…"

"Velvety smooth, wonderful finish, exotic hints of vanilla and leather…"

"It's very good wine."

"Rich DEEP sensuous colour…"

"Oh, well…"

"Ideal for quiet intimate settings…"

"Good value for the money."

"A romantic finish to a meal... a hopeful start to an erotic evening…"

Wide panicked eyes, "It NEVER DOES say that!"

"Well, I'm interpreting. That's my job, after all…"

"You can't just make up stuff out of thin air!"

"Yes, I can! Especially if I like my version of the conversation."

Mutual silence. He is the first to break it, "Now, you see, I don't understand what you just said. I know what all the words MEAN but… it's some kind of code, isn't it?"

Sigh. "Yes, it is. Can't you tell by my tone of voice? My body language? No clue at all?"

Sad head shake. "No. Can't you just talk to me? Person to person. Or DS to DI?"

"Not DS to DI… this isn't business. It's personal so why not man to woman?"

"Oh, well, then we're in trouble. I barely understand men. Women are beyond me."

"OK, person to person it is then."

"Please. What are you trying tell me? Is it important?"

The pacing begins. He watches hopefully, sees her pause twice to try to speak but then the pacing starts up once more. _Camille? Lost for words? My god, it must be the end of the world!_ He can't stand to watch any more, "Is it really that complicated? I can't imagine anything that you can't handle with ease. Can you at least give me a hint?"

"OK." Deep breath. "Here goes. You are a very attractive man…"

"No, I'm not."

"… and I… WHAT?! Are you calling me a LIAR? After that impassioned 'let's communicate' speech?"

"Well, then, talk sense. You're wrong."

"Am I? And you know what I find attractive, do you?"

"No clue at all."

"Well, I'm trying to TELL you but you're not listening!"

"You're trying to start another fight, aren't you? Why are you DOING that?"

"Because it's FUN! Fun and stimulating! Stimulating and passionate! THAT'S why! Happy now?"

Long thoughtful silence. "So… the words don't actually matter?"

"No."

"How can that be? Words always matter."

"Except where they can't really say what you need to say."

"But…"

"I know. You don't understand. Again. I wish I could make you understand."

"You said I was attractive. Did you really mean that?"

"Yes."

"And by 'attractive' you mean…?"

"REALLY? That's the word you're hung up on? It only has one meaning!"

"Well, no, attractiveness has many variables; mental, spiritual, emotional…"

"… physical…"

Slight stammer, "Wh… which variable are we discussing here?"

"All of them plus quite a few more that I haven't really… Look, I don't have a shopping list, you know!"

"But you must have SOME idea. All those blind dates must have focussed you somewhat."

"The blind dates again! That really bothers you, doesn't it?" Averted gaze, slight nod. "OK, let's see… can I put my finger on it? Hmmm, are you listening?" Nod. "Closely?" Another nod. "OK, are you ready?" She leans in and drops her voice, "None of them were you."

He frowns, waits a beat, expecting more. "That's it?"

She throws her hands up, "That's it."

"But that's… how can you… that doesn't… no one is me except ME."

Pleased 'now he GETS it' smile, "Exactly!"

"I don't get it."

Frown, "You don't? How is that possible? How much more explicit can I be?"

"Explicit? Do you even KNOW the definition of the word? I think you've confused the word with 'opaque' or perhaps even 'clear as mud'."

"Explicit… you want EXPLICIT? Come closer, I'll have to whisper this because it's pretty explicit."

He does so, hoping for clarification… and remains frozen in stunned amazement and growing embarrassment as the whispering goes on for many moments punctuated by various tiny hand movements and body shiftings.

Finally, she sits back, "There, does that clear things up?"

His turn to pace now. Pace and loosen his tie. Loosen his tie and realign the paradigm of his life. Finally, he stills a bit shakily and passes a hand over his brow, "I can't BELIEVE you said that! To ME! I know I asked for explicit… but REALLY!"

"I aim to please."

A worried sideways glance, "Um, OK. That's a lot to take in. I'm not sure I can… I mean, you're not serious, surely?"

"Now who's talking in code?" A helpless look and lost shake of the head. "OK… so you don't believe me. Well then, can I at least achieve #1 on my list?"

He flinches, "I don't remember what #1 was! I can't allow lewd public behaviour, not on my own person! What was #1 again?"

"To put my arms around you. That is hardly lewd and this is hardly public."

"Well NO, but…"

"Too late… and there. Does this hurt?"

"Well no, BUT…"

"Think you could stiffen up a bit more so it feels totally wooden?"

"Sorry… I'm just not used to…"

"If it helps, imagine I'm Meg…"

"Don't you SAY it! I've tried so hard to live that down! Don't you EVER say it!"

"All right but why were you so soppy over her and never me?"

"Because I was so HOME-sick! Because I was out of my mind! Because she was the soppy type! The type that needed rescuing… needed a man…"

"And I'm NOT?"

"YOU?! Oh, my god… SO not! Don't you know how scary you are? I'm still smarting from that strip you tore off me during the dead bride case. You can shoot the eye out of a gnat. Men are putty in your hands. No one can best you. NO one!"

"You can."

"I… what?"

"You can. You've bested me since day one. You just didn't know it."

"What are you talking about?"

"Remember when we met? Right here? I was hiding behind the bed? You menaced me with the mop?"

"Oh, the mop. Not my best moment."

"Do you know what I wanted to do about 10 seconds into our first conversation?"

"Clean? Dust? Do a laundry?"

"No… items #3 and #4 on my list of explicitness."

"Remind me again? I don't quite remember…"

"No, I'm sure the shock hasn't worn off yet. By the way, have you noticed anything odd?"

"Odd? Odder than this whole conversation, you mean? No. What?"

"Not only are my arms around you, but…"

They both look down. His arms are around her too.

He clears his throat, "Well, that IS odd. And… I don't seem to feel the slightest urge to step away."

A smile. "Can I move on to item #2?"

"Is it lewd?"

"Could be. Could also be innocent and chaste. Won't know until…"

"… until we give it a go, yes?"

"Ye…" but she is interrupted, ambushed, and otherwise waylaid for many moments until, "Now JUST a minute! I was supposed to kiss YOU not the other way around!"

"Maybe I've been compiling my own list these past few minutes. Could happen."

"Oh, I see. And is your list as explicit as mine?"

"Let's get through item #3 and compare our lists on the way to item #4, shall we?"

"So you DO remember…"

"The shock has worn off. I remember everything plus I'm having new and intriguing thoughts of my own."

"Finally! So… no more secret code?"

"No. Plain speaking from here on in."

"Yes, emphasis on the 'in'! Did you understand THAT code word?"

"Oh, yes, plain as day and easily supplied."

"This will be like one of our fights; fun, stimulating, and passionate."

"But hopefully with less cluelessness and shouting."

"Well, as to the shouting… that remains to be seen…"

He smiles and slips his hands up her back, "… seen… AND heard."

END


	15. Chapter 15

**S2 E2 - He Rules the Roost**

Camille has roused enough to smell coffee… o _hhhh, coofffeeeee!_ She roots about, trying to see through her tousled hair. No matter how HARD or how LONG she brushes it before bed… well, you know.

Finally, she is reduced to lifting the entire mass up and out of her face so she can watch him approach the bed with their morning tray. At least, she thinks that's what he's holding because her attention is focussed just a bit lower and more to her liking. The dawn light gives him such a rosy glow… or maybe it was the sex, she didn't really know… or care. He glows… that's the salient point. This is her first good moment of the day.

Instead of coming to her side of the bed, he ambles around to his side and sets the tray down just out of reach on a side table that wasn't there yesterday. As he carefully lays the tray, she has her second good moment of the day. She flings her arms akimbo above her head and writhes slowly in anticipation… but, first, the coffee... not that she needs anything to help her focus, mind you. She smiles in slow glee.

When he sits down facing her, his hands are empty.

 _Coffee? Where?_ She gives him a pleading look.

He flicks an eyebrow. Her looks don't seem to have the potency they once did. Maybe she's losing her touch… or he knows he's safe now? Hmm, how to regain control? Something to ponder… with coffee!

She makes an inquiring sound, points to the tray. He catches her wavering hand and pats it, "Do you know, I looked up poultry habits recently?"

His non-sequiturs are legendary. This will join the list. "Did you?" she manages.

"Yes, indeed. After that chicken rodeo I had in here last month, I felt the need to 'know thy enemy'." He looks smug and satisfied. She is suddenly suspicious. He's up to something.

"And what did you learn?" she grumps.

"Well, first of all, 'bird brain' is a real insult and it is the male of Gallus domesticus that rules the roost. It is his job to guard and protect, to keep the flock together, and his hens in line!"

"I see." She has an inkling of where this is going... could get interesting.

He holds up a finger, "Oh, yes. The male is boss. And if I want to keep poultry out of my home, I need to convince the rooster to keep his flock away... which I have done."

"Um…" she dekes a quick look behind him. The tray is just sitting there… the contents getting cold.

He continues perkily, "How, you may ask? Why, simply by sprinkling chicken blood all along my perimeter."

That made her sit up, "WHAT? Where in the world did you get chicken blood?"

He levels a disappointed look at her, "Really, Camille. Every second shop on the back street is a voodoo practitioner of some kind. Plus there are local butchers. It was easy. And it worked." He spreads his arms to indicate a poultry-deficient home... and displays a wonderful set of curves… which is probably unintentional… but she doubts it.

"Well, that's great. Now about my coffee…"

He tuts her into silence... he's not done, apparently. "And if the male wants his hen to come, he offers her something she can't resist… a bit of food, some tasty morsel, or it could be…" He gives her a look.

She scoffs, "Or it could be something she needs in order to wake up, to think, to live, to exist?!"

"Exactly!" he settles back in satisfaction, "Exactly so."

"So… if I want my coffee… I have to…?"

"If you want your coffee, I'm afraid you will have to obey my wishes."

"Oh, I see." She furrows her brow in thought, "OK, then." She coils herself up on the bed.

He leans back a fraction, the first seeds of doubt blossoming about this wonderful plan of his, "Er, maybe 'obey' is too strong a term? Why don't we have our morning libation and think about it?"

"Oh, no, no… the male wants his hen to do his bidding, right?" She reaches out a slim arm to lay a gentle hand on his shoulder.

He leans back a bit further… now very sure his plan is gang aft agley, "Well, yes, but…" he begins but is interrupted by her sudden lunge onto his lap.

As she wraps herself around him she growls, "And if the male offers TWO tasty morsels, the hen will pick the better one and leave the coffee to go COLD!"

He is flipped expertly onto his back and he laughs with delight, "Oh, absolutely! Hens rule! I knew that!" He chuckles to himself… her debating technique (if you can call it that) is SO persuasive! Very unorthodox to be sure and nothing like his school debating memories but still… SO persuasive!

She hears his quiet sound of amusement and gives her closing statement, "If you didn't know it before, you will learn it now."

As she takes him for breakfast, he sighs happily, "Learning, my love, learning all the time."

As he returns her opening sally of a most satisfying kiss, he thinks, _but I'm still The Closer, my hen. I haven't forgotten a single thing I learned in school. If you don't know THAT, I'm here to remind you._

He rallies his points of order and carries his position… AND the day.

END


	16. Chapter 16

**S2 E2 - Nuns…**

He wakes up to Camille's lovely face right in his. She is breathing gently on him, so close she is slightly blurry, and she smells wonderful. His surprised pleasure is momentarily given a knock however, "Now, young man, let's see those underpants! This is a snap inspection. My slipper is on the ready!"

He freezes for a moment in remembered panic… then the bad memory crumbles like so many others she's overcome in the past months by her sheer Life Force… and he cocks an eyebrow and curls a lip, "Hah! The joke's on YOU. I haven't GOT any underpants, so there!"

She climbs atop and conducts a most thorough investigation… finally relenting in utter failure to find the tiniest hint of an undergarment, "I see! Well, there's a special punishment for bad boys like you!"

"Oh, yes? And you think you're woman enough to give it to me?"

"I know I am. Are you man enough to take it?"

"We shall see, won't we?"

… **and Bikinis…**

She is teasing him again, laughing down into his contented countenance, "Oh, you were so cute! Trying to ignore all those bikinis. Were you doing it to be polite for me… or were you really terrified of such little scrapes of fabric?"

"It wasn't the fabric, as you well know. It was the women beneath. How can a person show so little decorum? How am I to deal with such a person? Which is, of course, why I don't deal with them at all. That's your job."

"Oui…" she sighs, settling down over his heart, "…my job. And I take it very seriously. Nothing shall get to _The Richard_ but through me!"

"Yes, and you are so fearsome that no one has terrified me since… other than you yourself, naturally."

She chuckles, "Naturally. Lucky me."

He hums a bit, plays with her hair, strokes her back. She hums echoes, stretches.

"Speaking of bikinis…" he murmurs.

"Were we? I thought that was a forbidden topic."

"Hardly forbidden, just avoided at all costs… but… whatever became of your bikini?"

"The one I was wearing on James Lavender's yacht?"

"Yes. Where IS that little excuse of a swimsuit? I never saw it again."

"I outgrew it."

"Outgrew it? How do you outgrow a bikini? There's hardly anything there begin with. What's to outgrow?"

She sits up, straddles him, cups her breasts and leans forward to demonstrate, "I-out-grew-it! Almost like I'm getting more exercise or something. What makes one body part grow yet others not?"

"Well, I jolly well know one thing that works on me and you're doing it right now!" He pulls her down and grazes blissfully.

She arches her back and groans, "Now… you see… I think you found the cause. If you'd only stop doing that then I might be able to get back into that suit."

He mumbles against soft velvety skin, "Call THAT a suit? Huh. I never really liked it… didn't suit you at all. I think cream is more your colour."

Smiling down at him, she enjoys the contrast of their skins, "So do I. Cream is perfect."

A green eye gleams briefly before slipping closed again, "And me? My colour?"

"Oh, café au lait! Definitely. You glow when wrapped in that colour."

He smiles, "I do, don't I? Lucky me to have so much of it on hand at all times."

She settles down and sighs, "Say goodbye forever to that bikini. I'll never get back into it at this rate."

"Small price to pay for such perfectitude…"

"That isn't even a word!"

"It is now. I'll call it in to the Oxford Committee first thing tomorrow morning."

"Yes… but perhaps not FIRST thing, oui?"

"Oui," he agrees, settling her hips over his in a further display of his own perfectitude.

 **... and the Healing Waters of the Holy Spring**

Cool knowing hands on his body.

He can feel the magical powers of the Holy Spring now!

Oh, yes, indeed.

END


	17. Chapter 17

*Author's note: as promised, her case notes from 'How It Happened' re-visited*

**will post 1/day**

 **S2 E2 – Daughters**

Part 1 of 6

He is very quiet on the drive back from the villa of bikinis.

She keeps shooting him glances while driving. His reaction to all that tender young flesh had been upsetting to say the least. When he ties himself up into knots like this it's so hard to figure out WHY. Was he aroused and embarrassed that she saw it? Was he outraged at their nakedness? Was he paternal? Randy? What?

He is deep in thought about something. Finally, she barely hears him mutter, "You'd never let OUR daughters parade around like that…"

Her eyes flare wide and she almost runs off the road. It is a sign of his discomposure that he doesn't even notice. She takes a big steadying breath before she answers, "No, I certainly would NOT."

He rouses from his funk and looks over at her, "Not what?"

She pauses, frowns, gives a tiny smile, "Let my daughters parade around like that."

"I certainly hope not… er, sorry, did I say that aloud? Far be it for me to tell you how to raise…" He pauses, clears his throat, looks back out his window, whispers, "… daughters…" and thinks… _Dear God… something I've never even considered..._

She knows that if she doesn't break him out of this silence he will work himself up into a lather over tomorrow… the future… children… and the mother of those children. Hard enough to woo such a cautious man, she doesn't need him worrying about things that haven't even happened yet! She knows just what to do. She arches a Gallic eyebrow and lobs a ball into his court by saying, "Don't you have bathing suits in England?" with just the right touch of superior French sneer. _There!_ _That ought to do it._

It does. "Well, of COURSE we do! What a silly question. Do you know the ambient temperature of the Atlantic Ocean is 48 degrees? Fahrenheit! What's that in Celsius… 9 degrees? Do you want to dive into that? We're all for the seaside but we're not suicidal!"

"Hah! I thought that's how you all got your stiff upper lips!"

He huffs, "Honestly…"

"So, if you don't go into the water, what DO you do at the beach?"

"Mostly try not to turn an ankle and avoid the oil slicks."

"Sounds very romantic."

"It isn't. Not at all. Fun to beach comb and paddle around a bit, though. Good for kids…"

 _Aaaand… he is off into another funk… merde!_ _Quick, another diversion!_ "So, no bikinis at all?"

He comes to, "Oh, there's bikinis all right… for sun bathing. Some Brits DO tan."

"Do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Do you tan?"

"Not that I'm aware off. I remember having some spectacular sun peels as a kid but never a tan. My melanin levels aren't high enough."

"Your what?"

"Melanin… you know, the main human skin pigment."

"Well, I've got enough. I could lend you some."

He smiles at that, "I don't think it works that way, sorry."

"Maybe I could rub some off on you…"

That cranks his head around to her pretty quick! Into the shocked silence, she calmly adds, "That is, if you want some… to prevent sun burn… and in the interests of international harmony, you understand."

"I'm… I'm not sure I do… actually… understand, I mean…"

She spares him a quick look, "All right. Sorry if I upset you. I rescind the offer."

"Oh." There seems a world of hidden meaning in that quiet word.

They drive several miles before she speaks again, "Do you remember my blue bikini?"

His start and tiny intake of breath reveals exactly what he remembers, "Um, no, can't say as I do…"

"Liar," she chuckles. He has the grace to look a bit guilty. "I still have it, you know. Haven't had a reason to wear it in ages… no one to wear it for, if you know what I mean." There is eloquent silence from his side of the vehicle. "I'm thinking maybe it's time to take it out of storage and get it wet again." A very choked silence now. "What do you say? Feel like braving a proper tropical sea tonight?"

"I don't own swim trunks," he stammers.

"All this way into Paradise and you don't even try?"

"Well, I didn't see the point…"

"No, but you will. Clear your dance card. You're going swimming tonight."

He sits up stiffly, "Not in the ocean! Not in the dark! I won't be able to see what's attacking me!"

She shoots him a bemused glance.

He colours, "I meant sharks… or anything else that likes the taste of human flesh…"

She gives him another glance.

He slumps back into his corner and groans, "Oh, PLEASE change the subject! I'm drowning here and I'm not even in the water!"

She relents, "So, seriously… you can't go into the ocean? At all?"

"No. I feel sick just thinking about it."

She is curious now, "What WOULD you do to avoid going into the water?"

He is relieved and sits back up, "Anything! Anything at…" He stutters to a halt at her third glance. "Um, I don't mean ANY thing, of course. I wouldn't eat seafood… or… or…"

"… or sleep in the nude?" she supplies helpfully.

He looks out his window, "Oh, god. Will you never forget the embarrassing moments we've had?"

She laughs, "Nope. I cherish each and every one! And they don't have to be embarrassing, you know."

"No? How do you expunge humiliation?"

"Is that what you remember? Humiliation? I always thought our little adventures were fun and revealing, the building of trust and friendship, the start of something wonderful…"

He scoffs quietly, "Wonderful? I seem to remember you offering to ship me home in a big box... that you might even punch some air holes!" He is chuckling to himself, starting to relax.

She is thinking very hard. "When EXACTLY did I say that?" and she pierces him with a near-fatal scowl.

END – part 1


	18. Chapter 18

Part 2 of 6

"Well, it was…" A deafening silence falls as she watches him freeze into total immobility, all pretense of relaxation forgotten. He does try. Not that it saves him. He takes a shaky breath, "Um, sometime in the far past, I'm sure? You've obviously forgotten all about it…" Colour is racing across his cheeks.

"Oh, no, I haven't. I haven't forgotten about it because I very carefully wrote it all down… in my notes." She gives him SUCH a look, "My PRIVATE personal case notes!"

"No, no, no, I'm sure you insulted me about it… or maybe you told Dwayne or Fidel?" His eyebrows rise hopefully.

"No, I didn't. I've never told ANYONE." His eyebrows snap down and he looks away. "So! You read my notes? When?" No answer. No defence. No hope. "Some of them… or ALL of them?" Still no answer. "I see. So you read my innermost private thoughts… and you said NOTHING? Have you been laughing at me all this time? HAVE you? You HAVE, haven't you? Oh, how could you be so cruel?" She is livid.

He whirls back to face her, his face very white, "Cruel? ME?! I'm not the one writing such… such…" His hands gesture as he stutters.

"Such WHAT?!" Her eyes are wide and outraged. Very French.

"Such bosh," he finally spits out.

"It's NOT bosh!" she yells, then… A pause, "What's bosh?"

"Utter tripe… you know… moon June spoon, that sort of thing."

"Hmm, how about thrill grill kill? That rhymes too!"

He slouches back into his corner, arms crossed, "Well, I mean, really! I knew it had to be an elaborate prank. My old unit once pulled a stunt just like it and I had to take personal leave to recover from it."

Her blood pressure sky-rockets! She stares at the road, strangles the steering wheel, "Oh! How I HATE those people! Will you PLEASE give me their names so I can mail a bomb?"

"What? No! The very idea," he huffs.

Silence descends. They are almost back to town. This conversation can NOT end soon enough for him.

As they swing into the station parking lot, she catches his elbow in an iron grip as he opens his door and hisses, "Just so you know, it wasn't a prank. I'm very sorry you had to read such TRIPE!" Her voice is rising in fury, "I know how SENSITIVE your tender psyche is! Pity you don't care about MINE!" This last is shouted as she slams out of the truck and goes up the stairs without a backward glance.

He stands beside the truck, watches her go, his brain in absolute turmoil. _NOT a prank? Is THIS part of the prank? Did I ACTUALLY say 'tripe'? Especially if it ISN'T a prank… then perhaps 'tripe' was too strong a word… but… NOT a prank? She can't really have meant ANY of those things she wrote in those private… Uh, oh._ Sudden motion up on the veranda catches his attention.

She is leaning over the railing and waving a notebook he recognizes. It is the notebook that he'd found in her bottom drawer… the bottom drawer that he'd been searching while looking for his extendable silver pointer just last week. He had been sure she'd hidden the pointer to wind him up. What he'd found instead had wound him up good and proper!

"Here!" she yells for the whole world to hear, "Maybe you'd like to correct my spelling too!" and she heaves it as hard as she can. It flutters down onto the lower lawn like a sad wounded bird. She storms back inside. He swears he can see heat distortion outlining her silhouette.

He slowly walks up to the fallen notebook and looks down at it. Just an innocuous bit of paper… but so loaded with potential dangers… horrific uncertainties… and NOW… boundless possibilities. He stoops to pick it up. It doesn't feel heavy at all… not at all fraught with difficulties and dread and... He looks back up at the station and wonders in dismay… _could ANY of it be true? Actually be true?_ He shivers.

He sighs, slips it under his arm, and straightens up to military stance. There's only one way to find out, isn't there? He stiffens his spine and climbs the stairs. When he enters the station, it is as tense as he expects. Dwayne and Fidel are graven images of terrified men in the same room with a tiger. The tiger herself is rigid in her desk chair, burning a hole in the desk top with mad eyes.

He makes the tiniest motion with his head to the men and they are gone in a rapid clatter of 'Yes, Chief!" and "You betcha!" Clever boys. No sense in everyone being decapitated. He takes a deep breath and lays the notebook on her desk where it does NOT immediately catch fire, much to his surprise.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly. "I know that isn't nearly enough but it's all I've got. I'm so sorry." He waits. Nothing. He begins to fret and hastens on without thinking, "I'm even sorry that I'm sorry… which is the sorriest thing of all. I didn't mean to read it but I was bored and I couldn't find my pointer and…"

She scoffs, "Oh, you mean THIS?" She pulls the pointer out of the radio on the corner of her desk where it has been masquerading as the antenna all this time and throws it at him. It hits his chest and falls to the floor like the meaningless little gizmo it is. He ignores it. She ignores him.

"Camille…" She turns her head, not even looking at him now. He tries again, "Camille… please… I don't know what else to say. This is very embarrassing for me…" At her sudden glare he hastily adds, "… and for you too, I'm sure! Can't we just pretend it was a clever prank and I fell for it and now we've had a good laugh and we can go back to…" but he can see by her stiffening body that this isn't going to work.

He slumps and makes his way to his own desk and collapses into his chair. They sit in silence for long minutes. Finally, he just has to say, "Now what? What do we do? I've never been any good in situations like this… not that I've ever been in this situation… you know… where the woman isn't trying to ruin my life and I'm the butt of the joke…"

She erupts, bolts to her feet, surprising him mightily, "Why do you think I'm trying to ruin your LIFE? Hmm?" She stares into his wide clueless eyes and it makes her madder still, "Maybe I'm trying to SAVE it! Did you ever think about that?" She slams her hands onto her hips and scoffs, "Yeah… save you… and maybe same me too! Is that possible in your world? Or is this all a joke to you?" She is steaming!

He doesn't know what to say. His brain kicks out one phrase and he clutches at it, "Save you?"

"Yes! Am I not allowed to be lonely? Scared? Seek comfort? Be attracted to a man? Am I!?"

He flinches. He's seen madly barking dogs that looked friendlier! "Well, of course, but… ME? Not me! You can't possibly mean me. How can that even happen?"

She looks away, suddenly quiet, "You read it… you know how it happened... slowly… over time… then POW!... with no warning. Then denial, repression, long nights of no sleep, long days of hiding it. You know EXACTLY how it happened." She sounds so betrayed.

He shrugs helplessly, hands up in supplication, "Yes, but… me?"

She rounds on him, "Why NOT you? Who else is there to compare to you? Huh? Look around! It's a small island and you stand out like a lighthouse… burning so bright… but there's no door! No way in! How am I supposed to overcome that?" She crosses her arms and waits. Maybe he'll give her a clue?

But no. He is looking back at her as if she is something that has just dropped down out of the sky. He has no clue. He is racking his brains in desperation but nothing comes to his rescue. _Where are my words,_ he despairs? She's given him the perfect opening to start the conversation he's been dreaming about for months… and his words have deserted him. He closes his parted lips and just looks at her in sorrow.

She sees this and draws her own conclusions, "I see." The silence spins out. She studies him. He's rejecting her… something she has dreaded and feared and now it has come to pass. She takes a deep defeated breath and monotones, "If you are the gentleman you pretend to be…" here she sees she has wounded him deeply, "…sorry… as a gentleman, you'd throw me a bone. You'd at least TRY to let me down easy." Her shoulders sag and she can only drop her eyes in sorrow.

There is a VERY long pause before he stutters, "Let you DOWN? You mean… spurn you? Refuse you? Are you INSANE? Why would I do that? You don't know how your words have tortured me ever since I found them." At her startled look back up, he stands and walks past her desk, heading for the door, "I have to go outside. I need to think. This has blown up into something I can't process right now. Please excuse me."

He almost makes it out the door but she once more catches his elbow. She swings him around mightily and lashes him across the lips with a bruising kiss. "There! Take that with you! Maybe it will help you think!" she growls then turns her back.

END – part 2


	19. Chapter 19

Part 3 of 6

Outside, he paces the veranda like a metronome. Unbeknownst to him his officers are watching from a safe distance ready to render aid whether calling an ambulance, rushing in to prevent GBH, or summoning Catherine. They wait with bated breath.

"What do you think happened?" whispers Fidel, his worried eyes following Richard's every move.

"Dunno. Whatever it was, it was BIG! We've seen them mad one at a time… but never THIS mad… and never at the SAME time. This could be it, Fidel."

"It… what?"

"The deal breaker. They may have reached a turnin' point and now there's no goin' back."

Fidel looks back up to the station where Richard is now sitting on a bench, head in hands, "Oh, I hope we don't lose him. He's just settled down, accepted his lot, you know?"

Dwayne gives a grim nod, "I DO know. If he leaves, it will go hard on both of us. We're not ready to take over. Not yet. The last thing we need is an interloper tryin' to be the Chief! Besides…" he adds quietly "…I'd miss him."

"Me, too. Why isn't Camille out there trying to calm him down?"

"More to the point, why isn't he inside tryin' to calm HER down? Oh, this is bad."

Fidel stiffens, "Wait! He's thought of something… I know the way he sits up and freezes like that. Come on, Chief, use that big brain of yours and think of something!"

Together they huddle just out of sight and well out of earshot and pray for a miracle.

Richard is indeed sitting up because he has indeed had a thought… but it is a MAD thought! Mad! Despite his logical brain's relentless step-by-step analysis of the problem… he keeps coming back to the same mad conclusion! But that can't be right, can it? Ask the tiger for help? Impossible. Not to mention dangerous. Nevertheless...

He settles himself, takes a calming breath, and begins again. He found the journal. He read the journal. He doesn't understand the journal. She wrote the journal. She understands the journal. Ergo… if he wants to understand, she has to explain it to him. For that, he needs her help. He needs to go back inside and face the tiger and… and get his head bitten off.

He stands resolutely, smooths down his tie, takes another deep breath, and walks to the nearest door. He steps inside. It is very quiet. She isn't at her desk. He looks about. She isn't anywhere. How could she have gotten past him? She HAS to be here! Hands on hips, he turns around to see her silhouetted in the other doorway. She had obviously stepped out at the exact same moment he had stepped in.

"Oh," he says, suddenly at a loss, "What are the odds of THAT happening?" She makes no reply. She looks calm and cool. _Right_ , he thinks, _she's ready to talk and I'd better put my best foot forward._

He says, "I need your help," just as she says, "I'm resigning."

He is inexplicably looking down a backwards kaleidoscope. Everything skews. He's suddenly cold.

Into the thunderstruck roar in his head he sees her point to his desk where a white envelope lies pristinely upon the surface. He sees it and he knows what's inside it... knows but doesn't want to think about it. Doesn't want to think about it and can't accept it. It's just a sheet of paper with marks on it… marks that he doesn't want to see. If he sees the words then he will have to read them. If he reads them, his life will… his life will change. His life as he knows it… will end. End with a whimper.

In that moment, his heart stops. The world loses all colour, all sound, all meaning. Fear wells up in a tsunami and he is swamped. _Oh. Oh, Christ. Oh, great sodding Christ._

NOW he understands.

NOW he gets it.

Not just a colleague. Not just a partner. Not just his sergeant and fellow officer. No just any ONE… not just any THING… EVERY thing. She means everything to him. Every little thing in his whole sad life.

She watches him stand rooted to the spot, sees his eyes go from surprise to worry to shock. _Well, what did he think would happen_ , she wonders _? I can't stay here now! Not now that he knows everything. I have my pride and even though it means changing my life, I have to do it. He's left me no choice._

He still hasn't moved… although his breathing has become unsteady. _He's probably worried about the disruption my vacancy will cause the station,_ she scoffs sadly _. Tough, that's HIS problem, not mine!_ She gives him a curt nod and turns away… towards the door and her new life… towards the great unknown and all its endless possibilities… towards…

… a life without Richard Poole.

END – part 3


	20. Chapter 20

Part 4 of 6

Her feet falter. The wave of uncertainty that washes over her is rudely interrupted by a hard hand on her elbow. He right behind her, holding her back, keeping her from doing what she needs to do. Typical! Over her shoulder she says as steady as she can, "No need for goodbyes. We both knew this day was coming right from the very start. Let me go, please. I need to go home and…" But he doesn't let go. Instead, his arms slip rigidly around her and his face presses into her shoulder. She feels tiny shudders passing through him. "Richard! Let me go! I have to leave. Surely you can see that?" She tries to break his hold, tries to twist out of his grasp but he tightens his grip and a sound very close to a sob escapes him. She stills. This isn't right. This is something unexpected… something very UN-Richard.

Before she can get another word out, he whispers, "No, I can't let you go. No, I don't see that. No, no, no, no." His last words are just a breath.

"But… I HAVE to. You know everything! I can't stay here. I can't live with this. It's too awful."

He gulps, stutters a bit, "You MUST stay. Yes, I read it but I didn't under-STAND it. I WANT to under-STAND it. That's why I came back in here… to ask for your help… to help me understand." Here he turns her jerkily to face him.

She is shocked at how white and scared he looks, not like himself at all. This is a man who is facing his worst possible nightmare and afraid of dying. Automatically her hands fly to his arms and she squeezes gently to reassure him. Old habits die hard.

He doesn't notice. All he can see are her beautiful intelligent SAD eyes. All he can smell is her unique Camille-ness. All he can feel is the suffocating fear that is choking him. He gives her a little shake and pleads, "PLEASE help me understand. I WANT to live with it. Don't leave me. Please, don't go."

His words have confused her, distracted her, "Richard! What do you expect me to DO?"

"I expect you… no, I NEED you to help me. One last time. You've helped me through so much. I never realized until just now but you've helped me through more than anyone else ever has in my whole life… except maybe for…" Here he pauses.

Camille swallows a huge lump in her throat… _except? Another woman? Someone he loved and left behind and maybe wishes he hadn't? Is that why this attraction hasn't gotten anywhere?_ Taking a deep fortifying breath, she dares to ask in a whisper, "Except for…?"

He looks at her then, "A friend from school, someone I haven't seen in over 20 years. He saved my life… then. You can save my life… now." He carefully takes her by her upper arms, flinches a bit, "Please don't twist my arm off… but WILL you help me?"

He is so serious, so sad, so subdued. She can't leave him now. Despite her better judgement, the many nights of tortured thoughts, her instinct for survival… she can't just walk away. Not now. Not without one last try to solve the monumental puzzle that is Richard Poole. She heaves a huge sigh… _OK, Camille! One last attempt! Do or die. What can it hurt?_ She shudders… she KNOWS how much it can hurt!

"All right… but this is the last time. What do you need help with?"

He whips around and scoops up her journal from her desk, holds it up like a shield in front of him, "With this. With ALL of this! What does it MEAN?"

She can only stare at him in bafflement.

Outside, Fidel and Dwayne are practically bursting out of their skins. They'd seen the Chief go charging in one door. They'd seen Camille come charging out the other door. It was like watching some kind of French farce… except this isn't funny. Not at all. Camille had turned, stood in the doorway for a moment then gone back inside. Hopefully, they've been talking all this time and she hasn't been twisting bits of him off to scatter on the beaches later tonight. There hasn't been any yelling… so that's maybe a good sign?

"Think we should go back inside and try to help them?" Fidel asks after a long dreadful wait.

Dwayne shoots him an incredulous glance, "You MAD, boy? I don't understand the Chief at all an' Camille was a mad woman when she came back today. There's NO WAY I'm goin' back in there until I'm sure they aren't killin' one other…" He strains to listen, "Man, I wish we could hear what's goin' on."

"Maybe it's best if we don't. It could be pretty personal… if they are discussing what Juliet says they've been dancing around for the past few months or so."

Dwayne quirks an eyebrow, "Oh? And what does Juliet think is goin' on?"

"Well, you know, private things… things you and I have no business intruding upon."

"Oh. OH! What on earth makes Juliet think THAT? I've never seen two people who enjoy fightin' so much! They wouldn't last a month together! It would be bloodshed from one end of the island to…"

Fidel's hand is hard on his arm, "Dwayne," he breathes "… look!"

Dwayne looks. Looks but doesn't believe it. Sees it but doesn't know WHAT he sees.

Camille… and the Chief… have come out onto the veranda. They are sitting down on one of the benches and they are leaning in close to look at a notebook. He looks a bit pale, sick almost. She looks grim, still a bit angry… but they are definitely NOT killing one another. Not yet.

"Fidel! They're still talkin' and he's in one piece! Oh, this looks good. Maybe this will work out after all! Come on, you two! Figure it out!"

They crouch lower in the bushes and hold their breath.

END part 4


	21. Chapter 21

Part 5 of 6

Up on the veranda, Richard is pointing at something in the journal and she leans forward to read it, "Here, do you see? On the Charlie Hulme case, you clearly state how annoying I am… how you can't wait to be reassigned."

"Well, it was TRUE! You were AWFUL! I hated you and I hated being forced to work with you."

"Well, that much I understood perfectly. But, look! See here, on the Dead Bride case, you say you enjoyed tearing a strip off me… which hurt quite a lot, I must say… THEN you call me 'Mr. Green Eyes'! What does THAT mean?" He looks to her, perplexed.

She looks away, "Don't you see my next comment? I wondered myself 'where did that come from?' It was my first unconscious hint of my attraction to you. Your eyes! How they drew me! Didn't you notice that I tried not to look directly at you after that?"

He sits back and frowns, "Well, yes, I did. I just assumed you hated my very existence and wished me dead." He leans back in, "And see here? Here's the comment about shipping me home in a big box… with or without air holes!" He mumbles to himself, "How could I have forgotten where I read THAT?"

"Yes! But! See here? How your movements caught my attention. You saved me from William and I started to wonder what you'd been like when you were younger… Well, don't you see? I was starting to fall in love with you way back then! But I couldn't accept it! All these insults and snide comments were my pathetic attempt to deny it. I was trying to convince myself that I was deluded… that it couldn't be happening." She keeps her head down, pointing at the pages then feels the firmness of his thigh beneath the book and sits back up quickly, putting her hands in her own lap.

He is cautiously trying to catch her gaze, "But it was? Truly?"

"Yes." She realizes her cheeks are heating up and tries to quell it, looks up at the sky. So big. So empty.

"So when you describe me as 'a mind deep and cool and precise with a thin weedy non-descript body with zero social skills… is that a deliberate insult or your attempt to deny it?" Now HE is studying the sky, arms crossed, as if pondering a most difficult puzzle.

She nods and decides to be truthful, "Denial, all the way. Sorry if it sounds rude… but I was kind of desperate to convince myself you were bad for me."

"Do you still think that?" At her blank look, he looks away and says low and fast, "Thin and weedy… non-descript? Doesn't sound like love talk to me." He blushes. He can NOT believe he is saying ANY of this to her!

She reddens a bit, "No, I don't think that. Maybe I'll tell you what I really think… if we come to some kind of mutual understanding here… but not until I'm sure of your feelings for me."

He watches her for long moments, a slight frown on his face, "So, there are things you haven't written here that I need to know, aren't there? Why did you stop your entries after the Aidan Miles case? Quite a few things happened afterwards that confused me no end. Your notes might have helped me understand you these past few months."

She licks her lips, glances down at her hands, "Didn't you see what filled up the last few pages of this book?" He ponders a moment then flips to the last few pages. They are filled with doodles of two people walking on beaches, the woman tucked into the man's side. At his bemused look, she chuckles, "I had to start a second journal. It's at home. Under my pillow."

Very hesitantly, he asks, "May I see it?"

Her eyes flare and she shakes her head, "Oh! NO WAY! It's MUCH worse than this one."

He nods, looks back down at the book, "So… all these compliments and…"

She frowns, "Bosh, you mean? Tripe? Moon June spoon?"

He has the grace to apologize, "Please forgive me. That was unconscionable. I just couldn't believe that you might possibly feel ANY of this for me. If I had given you the slightest bit of encouragement, would you have acted on your feelings?"

"Oh, yes! I came close many times. But you seemed so closed off, so uninterested. I was scared to make a fool of myself. You were 'the boss'… and English… and all you wanted to do was go home and leave me. I was just trying to protect my heart." She places an unsure hand onto his arm, "Surely you can understand that?"

He sits back with a sigh, "I can. I was protecting MY heart too… the only way I knew how… by ignoring you and my feelings for you." He places an equally unsure hand onto hers.

She looks up into his eyes now, a burning question on her lips, "Can I ask? Please? When did you start having feelings for me?"

He blushes again, "Oh, I'm ashamed to say."

She nudges him a bit playfully but with care, "Go on. This is confession time, after all."

"Well, all right. About 10 seconds after we first met."

Now she is amazed, "What?! How is that possible? Why did you hide it? We might have reached this stage months ago if only you'd…"

He takes her hand and holds on for dear life, "But I couldn't! Surely you see that! Remember what I was going through! How desperate my situation was! I was so totally lost and abandoned and spurned! It's a wonder I didn't go mad! If it hadn't been for you and Dwayne and Fidel… you saved me. All of you saved me! It took time and a lot of pain, I know… but you saved me." He turns to her and takes both her hands in his.

Down below, Dwayne and Fidel surge up, grabbing each other in sudden hope.

"I HAVE to have you in my life, Camille. I'm not a complete person without you! Not only do you complete me but you finish my sentences and answer my questions hours before I even think to ask. I'm not talking about our partnership in law enforcement, I'm talking about you as a woman and me as a man. I'm nothing without you… just a suit! A 'stuffed shirt' as you so kindly wrote here." She drops her gaze and frowns. He hurries on, "No! That's a good thing! I know I'm pedantic and annoying and inflexible… but I'm better now… because of you… because of them hiding down there in the bushes watching us so intently. I need you all… but mostly I need you. Please say you'll stay with me… for us."

She is silent, thinking. He is silent, humming with dread. The men below are silent, holding their breath and hoping with all their might. When she stands up, three sets of eyes follow her as she goes inside and comes out with an envelope in her hand. She tucks it into his inside jacket pocket and pats it through his suit, "Here, you can keep it for when I start to annoy you beyond endurance. You can bring it out and threaten me with it. That ought to keep me in line."

He smiles in relief, suddenly so dizzy that he has to lean forward and put his head into his hands, "And if I never open it? If I never read it?"

"Then you will never know what I wrote."

He sighs and sits back up, "Deal!" then looks down to the journal almost forgotten between them, "Um, could you read some excerpts here? Perhaps you can explain these doubts you had about my sexuality? And perhaps this green-eyed baby that pops up out of nowhere?"

She covers her face and huffs with embarrassed laughter, "Oh, no! Not that! I was insane with jealousy and crazy with frustration! The wine didn't help, either!"

He turns a final page, runs his finger down the script, stops at a certain phrase, "And here, you wonder if you will ever see what you are looking for in my eyes. Do you see it now? Do you finally know?"

She places her hands on either side of his face and whispers, "Yes, I see it. I finally see it. And it's as wonderful as I'd hoped. I'm going to say something now, Richard. Something I've been terrified to say for a long time. Please don't step on me too hard… but I love you. Do you hear me?"

"I hear you. You love me. That's pretty simple… simple enough even for MY big brain to understand."

"And?"

"This part is a bit more difficult. I have serious trust issues, you know."

"I know. Me too, remember?"

"Yes, I remember. You were very brave… so now it's MY turn. OK, then, here goes." He stiffens and squares his shoulders, clenches his hands into fists upon his thighs, for all the world like a man about to pronounce the meaning of life, "I concur. No, that's not right.´ He sits up a little taller and says a little louder, "I agree. Oh, that's not right either!" He turns to her in frustration, his eyes a bit frantic, "I… I… why can't I say what I MEAN?"

She shakes her head and gives him a tiny smile… so Richard to the very end, "Do you love me?"

He raises a hand to her and nods emphatically, "YES. I DO! What YOU said!´ He heaves a huge sigh, "Thank you."

"Then say it. It's what my dear mother was trying to get out of you all those months ago and now I want to hear it for myself. Just open your mouth and say it."

"All right. I will. I love you. I, Richard Poole, love you, Camille Bordey. There! I SAID it!" He turns to her now with wide slightly shocked eyes, "Did you hear me SAY it?" He sounds a bit amazed.

She nods and laughs, "I did. I DID hear you say it. And since we're being totally truthful and brave right now, I have to tell you that I liked it a LOT! It sounded like a declaration… a vow…"

He stills completely.

She is immediately on guard _… Oh, did I push him too far? Did I just undo all the good we've managed here today? Stupid, stupid, stupid!_ But he is slipping off the bench... he is kneeling at her feet... he is looking up at her with determination. Her heart rate spikes. The two men below would have swooned in sympathy except they are on their way back, sure that it is safe to return.

He takes her hand in one of his and places his other hand over his heart, "It IS a vow! Thank God! At last and finally… I can say it! Camille, I don't know if we're in our right minds right now but I wish very much to ask you to marry me. Or, at least, ask you to think about it."

END – part 5


	22. Chapter 22

Part 6 of 6

She lowers her head and gives him a long appraising look from under her lashes. He has no idea what it means but some part of him does as his blush begins very low and rises like hot mercury.

"Do you know what I'd REALLY like?" she purrs.

Before his suddenly dry throat can make a single sound, there is an abrupt clatter. Dwayne leaps into view, grinning and laughing and so relieved! He whoops, "Whew! You two had us worried! So you've made up and everythin's OK again?"

Richard stiffens and gives him an incredulous glare. Camille's hot glance matches it.

Fidel comes into view, smiling and nodding, then freezes just as still as the tableau before them when he suddenly understands what he's seeing! He grabs Dwayne by the arm and swings the man around and practically catapults the two of them back down the stairs, calling back over his shoulder, "Sorry, sir! We didn't see anything! We are going on patrol! Right NOW! Back in an hour!"

The sound of them fighting their way back down the steps and across the parking lot goes on for quite a while until there is sudden silence. Richard is just starting to uncoil himself when there is a shout of exuberant volume, "BONDYE! GOOD ON YOU, CHIEF!" There is the sound of a scuffle and muffled laughter then silence. They are gone.

Richard takes out his handkerchief and mops his brow. _Honestly! Is this any way to run a police station? Or a life?_ He climbs a bit shakily up off his knee and sits carefully down beside her… not quite looking at her but watching her all the same, "Um, I hope some of that made sense to you because I'm not…"

She gives him a quick grin, "Fidel explained it to Dwayne and they are both happy for us."

"Oh. You sure?"

"Yes."

"Well, now that my moment of madness is past… I don't remember if you answered me or not."

"I was going to be cheeky and make a smart remark that would embarrass us both now if I were to say it. Instead, let me tell you plainly and truthfully that I will marry you if you will marry me."

He lets out a pained breath and passes a hand over his eyes, "Oh. I'm so glad. I didn't fancy you being insulted by my offer. I know I'm not much… being thin and weedy and all… but I'm very sincere in my intentions. It's time I made a decent woman of you… no more blind dates… no more flirting at La Kaz." He leans back, relaxing, feeling something new and wonderful washing over him. He tests it cautiously… _is this confidence? Is this what it feels like?_

She throws her head back and gives a high peal of laughter, "ME?! How about YOU? It's time I made an INdecent man of you… no more quiet evenings in your monk's cell… and no more pyjamas!" Relief and excitement are washing over her. _Is this l'amour vrai? If so, it feels wonderful!_

He sits up quickly, his eyes flashing in alarm… and maybe something else, "Now JUST a moment!"

She lays a hand on his knee and he hushes instantly, "Pyjamas… OFF! Remember that entry?"

He looks at her for a long moment then gives a tiny cough, "Agreed. I will learn to sleep in the nude… just like you suggested so long ago. Anything else?" His eyes sharpen.

She sees this and smiles a long slow smile, "Oh, yes. Lots and lots else. But not here."

He stands, looks about a bit helplessly, "I see. I think I see. I HOPE I see." He looks down at her, "Shall we go back to work and try to relax a bit? Get used to our new standing with one another? I know I could use a strong drink but I supposed I'll have to make do with a cup of tea?"

She stands, "No work… not yet… and NO tea! We still have things to discuss."

He nods, "And we need to start making plans." At her look, he clarifies, "You know, wedding plans?"

"Rrrrrrriiiight, wedding plans. I know, let's get down the calendar at your place and choose a date. We can pick up a nice bottle of wine on the way."

"Um, we can't leave the station unmanned, you know. We'll have to wait for them to come back."

"No, we don't. We'll put up the notices and…"

"There's a perfectly good calendar right here in the office…"

"Richard…" He gives her a little 'yes, dear?' smile that makes her pulse leap, "I want to use YOUR calendar… at YOUR place… your quiet, secluded, far-from-the-maddening-crowd place. Do you understand me?"

"Well, I…"

"Oh, honestly! Here! Let me write it down for you!" She picks up the journal, takes his little silver pen from his inner jacket pocket and carefully prints for several moments then shows it to him.

His eyebrows jump, "Oh. Ah. Um. Do you think we're ready for such a big step? I was thinking more of a quiet dinner and perhaps a walk on the beach."

She tucks the pen back into his pocket and smooths his profile from shoulder to belt, "I can do that, sure. As long as you keep my suggestion in your back pocket in case the conversation drags."

His solemn visage slips back to that little grin, "Right… just in case." He stands aside and gestures for her to precede him into the station. Within minutes the doors are locked and the notices posted. "What will they think when they come back and see this?" he frets.

"They won't think anything at all. Fidel will likely open up and finish his shift. Dwayne will take the opportunity to get off work early and…"

Richard whirls to meet her eyes, "… and he'll go right to La Kaz and tell your mother! Oh, I'm DEAD!"

"Well, if you're worried, we can stop there on our way to your place so she hears it from us first."

He swallows, "I guess that's the best thing but I must admit I'm a bit trepidatious."

She steers him towards the steps, "Not to worry, chéri. I'm at your side from here on in. No one gets to you except through me. Does that calm you a bit?"

"Not really. You're a danger to anything in pants and that puts me high on the threat list."

"Well, there's a simple solution to that… if you think on it," she murmurs.

He puzzles on this all the way down to the lawn then stutters to a halt, "Oh, surely not! Camille!" He is laughing like he can't believe his luck.

She slips an arm through his and gets him moving again, "Oh, yes. I intend to make a VERY indecent man of you… as soon as you let me."

END

*the journal under discussion can be found here on FanFiction as "How It Happens - Year 1*


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